Silver and Gold
by QLTales
Summary: Sam has answered an opportunity for funding of his project but Al's not so sure. A Christmas time story just in time for July.
1. Chapter 1

**Silver and Gold**

_by: QL Tales_

_Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction._

**Chapter 1**

Sitting at the kitchen table reading the morning news, Al couldn't help seeing that the postman had arrived. Putting down his mug, he tightened the belt of his robe and called to the office off the living room where Sam was working, "I'm going to get the mail."

"I wish you wouldn't go out in your bathrobe," the physicist called back.

"It's just the mailbox, Kid. Besides, nobody's around at this time of day except Mandy Peters...and she said she thinks it's cute."

"It's cute if you're 6 years old," Sam called back. "Not so cute if you're 56 years old."

"Funny, Kid. Funny." Al went ahead and closed the door behind him.

Hearing the door close and knowing that meant Al had gone out despite his protestations; Sam came out to the living room. He shook his head slightly as, once again, he thought about how incorrigible his friend was. "He's never going to change, is he?" he asked as Comet got up from where he'd been curled on the couch and began to weave between his master's feet. When Sam picked him up, the cat batted playfully at his nose. "I know. It's past your breakfast time."

A few minutes later, Al came back in, carrying several envelopes. "There's one here for you from the Millennium Group in New York."

"I'm in the kitchen," Sam called out hearing his friend talk to him. He had bent down to fill the cat's food bowl and was hidden by the center island. As he stood up, he saw Al coming from the living room to the kitchen. "I've been waiting for that," he said as he took the envelope.

"Who are they?" Al asked noticing the cat eating. "You do know I fed him about thirty minutes ago, right?"

Sam looked down at the cat that was happily eating a second breakfast. "That's why I couldn't find the rest of the can I'd put in the fridge last night. He keeps this up, and I'm going to have to rename him Garfield." Sitting down on one of the stools at the island, Sam slit the envelope with a knife from the butcher block kept there. "I'm hoping they're willing to provide at least some of the funding we need for PQL, if not all of it."

This came as news to Al. The last time he and Sam had talked about funding, they'd agreed, or he thought they agreed, that private might not be the best direction to go in. "I thought you were going to at least consider the possibility of submitting a project request to the Pentagon."

"I said I'd consider it but I'm not sure how comfortable I am with the military providing funding. What if they want to use my work for some kind of weapon?" Sam unfolded the letter and started to read it as he talked. "I'd like to explore the possibility of private funding as well."

With a deep sigh, the older man nodded. "Yeah. I know you've never been keen on military funding. I just don't think that private funding's going to be a cakewalk either." Al paused. "We're going to have to send them a proposal, I'm sure."

Sam eyes scanned the paper as he off handedly replied, "Already did. Besides, we won't know until we try." Sam kept reading the letter then let out a little groan. "They want to meet with me so I can explain it all in person."

"You what?" Al asked blinking. Responding to the statement about the meeting he added, "That shouldn't be a surprise to you. Did you think you were just going to say 'I need a billion dollars' and they were going to write the check?"

"I'm not that naïve." Sam folded the letter and put it back into the envelope. "I sent them a proposal about a month ago. They want to meet on the 20th in New York. That's a week from today. That's not a lot of time to get a presentation put together." He gestured to the space around him. "And we were going to get a tree and stuff this weekend and I have to finish the presentation for Monday." He let out a sigh. "I'm not going to have any time for all that."

"And you didn't think it would be a good idea to run that proposal past your partner?" Al asked not addressing Sam's concerns about the timeframe. "The one you asked to help with the business side of things?" He was surprised and slightly annoyed.

"It wasn't like that Al. I was given the name and called them. They said a short proposal should be fine and you were working on that other thing...the work breakdown structure or something. I didn't want to bother you."

"You got a copy of this proposal so I can see what you sent out?"

"Of course. I made a copy before I mailed it. Geez, I know that much."

"Ok, ok. Sorry." Al thought for a moment. "You were going to have to fly to New York anyways for that presentation at Columbia Monday." He put up his hand when Sam started to respond. "I know, I know, you were just going for one night. You can just extend the return date." He started up the stairs to his bedroom. "Give me a minute to get changed and I'll go with you to talk with Mark down at the travel agency."

"That means I'd be in New York for almost a week," Sam called to his retreating friend. He got up and went to the living room, slumping on the couch. The cat followed, jumping in his lap. He scratched him behind the ears for a moment then got up and went to the foot of the stairs. "Why do you need to go to the travel agent?" he called up to his friend.

"Cause I'm going with you, Kid. Who else is going to help you navigate those shark infested waters?"

"You don't trust me?"

Al started down the stairs, now dressed in a pair of black baggies and a red silk shirt. He was adjusting his bolo tie. "It's not you I don't trust."

"Well, then, why do you have to go and supervise?"

Al put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "You remember when we met?"

"No. Old age is creeping in and I have trouble remembering what happened six years ago. Of course I do. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Then you remember the bad ass you were planning to be. Good thing you came to your senses, but you're going to be facing people that have what you were planning to do down to an art form. I'm not going to supervise but if any of those nozzles gives you any hell, I'm going to have your back."

"Oh," Sam said softly when he heard the determined words of his friend.

Al went over to the table beside the front door and pulled his keys off the hook above it. "Now, let's get down to Mark and get those travel plans ironed out."

Sam took his coat off the hook by the door, put it on then took keys out of the left pocket and held them up. "Fine, you can come but I'm driving."

"Ok. You want to drive, you can drive."

Sam pulled open the door and started to walk out, looking over his shoulder as he talked to his friend. "Ever since you bought that..."

"What? My Camaro? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing's wrong with it. It's just that since you got it, you seem to think you're Mario Andretti in disguise. I don't plan on dying in car wrapped around a telephone pole."

"That's not gonna happen. I'm a very good driver," Al said, somewhat hurt by the accusation.

"It's not a matter of how good a driver you are or aren't," Sam explained as he unlocked his car and got in. "It's a fact, though, that the higher the rate of speed, the less time you have to react to hazards. You're just human. You don't have superhuman reactions."

"Yeah. And I've been a test pilot and an astronaut. If I didn't have great reactions, you think they would have let me pilot those babies?"

"A car is not the same thing as a jet or an Apollo space craft," Sam pointed out. He was also going to point out that as humans aged their reflection slowed down and it had been some years since Al had been either a test pilot or an astronaut. He thought the better of it, though. There was no need to point out Al's age. Once his friend was in the car, Sam started it. "All I'm saying is that sometimes you go a little too fast and you take some chances when you drive. I just didn't feel like sitting in the passenger seat for that today. Besides, I need to stop off at the grocery store on the way home."

"And my back seat doesn't have the room for the groceries. Fine."

"Nope," Sam agreed.

"So, what did they say in that letter? From that group you think are going to provide your angels."

"I don't think they're going to provide any angels," Sam quickly responded. "I'm just hoping they can provide some of the funding we'll need. Look, I know you're not happy that I want to explore the private side of things but give me a break, ok."

"Did I say anything negative? Angel investors, Sam. People that put up money when you're too new to get a bank loan and not a sure enough bet for venture capitalists. I just want you to tell me a little about them."

"It's not what you said; it's how you said it." Sam flicked a quick glance to his friend and then to the road in front of him. "I know what an angel investor is," he added in a mumble.

"I know I rode you sort of hard about the government but you did have some good reasons to want to go a different route. I told you, I'm with you on this thing no matter what. You want to look into private money, you should do it." He paused. "I wasn't sure if you knew what an angel investor was or not. You don't usually pay much attention to financial matters."

"Just because I don't spend all my time on financial matters doesn't mean I'm naive about it." Sam was not going to admit that, before Al's explanation, he didn't have a clue what an angel investor was. His friend was always ribbing him about how he handled finances. He knew it was his weakness. He didn't have to admit it, though.

"Right, Kid." Al nodded to the parking lot up on the right side of the street. "Looks like that bakery's having another sale. It's going to be hard finding a place to park."

"Not a problem." Sam turned down one of the side streets and found a parking space on the street, although it was a further distance. "We'll just walk."

The two men got out of the car to walk to the travel agent. Al was quiet for a moment but then suggested, "You know, I was thinking."

"That explains the smoke I've been smelling," Sam quickly responded with a smirk.

"Ha ha," Al mock laughed. "Don't give up your day job, Shecky. Anyways, Christmastime in the Big Apple could be sort of fun."

"Christmastime at home could be sort of fun, too," Sam responded.

"Yeah, but this way we'll have both worlds. The big city and then back here."

Sam started chuckling, shaking his head at his friend. "I think the only thing you really care about are the Rockettes." He turned thoughtful. "I used to go ice skating all the time with Tom and Katie when I was growing up. I can't remember the last time I did that. Rockefeller Center could be kinda fun."

"Well...I've never really ice skated but what the hell. It'd be fun to try it."

"Never?" Sam questioned. "You said you grew up in New York. How could you have lived in the northeast and never went ice skating?"

The older man shrugged. "Never owned skates as a kid."

"I guess that would make it hard."

"It's ok, though. When Maxine first started going after the skating thing, I tried it. I'm not good, mind you but I won't kill myself on the ice. I guess I picked up some pointers of what not to do."

Sam felt he was now on uncertain footing with Al with the mention of Maxine. It was still a toss-up whether his friend would get angry talking about his most recent ex-wife or if he'd be more accepting of it. "Um, what kind of pointers?" he asked hoping it was a neutral enough question. He was hoping since Al was the one to bring up Maxine, the question wouldn't upset him.

"Well, for one thing it's a good idea to watch where you're going."

Sam was just about to agree when his shoulder banged into a signpost along the sidewalk. "Good idea to do that when you're walking, too," he said ruefully. "What else?"

"You ok, Kid?" Al asked, his concern putting his ex-wife out of his mind. The sound told him Sam had clipped the sign hard. It was on the side where he'd been shot a few years before.

"I'm ok," Sam responded. He rubbed his shoulder then rotated it. Hitting on his left side was a little more painful than it would have been on the right but, in general, the bump had been more embarrassing than painful.

They'd reached the front side of the shopping strip and turned to walk down to Mark's storefront. Going in, they found their agent finishing up with an older couple. Al walked over to where the coffee was. "You want a cup, Sam?"

"No thanks." Sam picked up a colorful brochure that was on a rack surprised that Al hadn't made a beeline for it instead of the coffee. The front was a glossy photo of two very well endowed women in hula skirts. "Hawaii" was emblazoned across the top. "Sure you don't want this instead?" he asked as he held the brochure up for his friend to see. He did his best to keep a deadpan expression on his face.

"Nah. I've got a copy back at the house," he said as he finished fixing his cup.

Sam looked between the older man and the brochure. "You got a copy at the...Al, why on earth do you have copies of travel brochures?" He put the brochure back with the others like it. "Are you planning a trip you didn't tell me about? I can't believe you have it just for the pictures. Wait," he said as he gave his friend a long look. "Maybe I can believe that."

"Well...they are nice looking...but, no. I don't have it just for the pictures. I was thinking the next time we go to Hawaii, I want to branch out for a little site seeing."

"The next time we go? You don't have something up your sleeve again, do you? The last time he'd been to Hawaii was when he and Al had visited Sam's mother for 68th birthday eighteen months before. "It wouldn't be so easy this time. We'd have to make arrangements for Comet, too. Oh, geez! Comet! I forgot about him. If you're going to come to New York with me, who's going to take care of him?"

I don't think that will be a problem."

"Really? Did he learn how to use a can opener or rip open a bag of food when I wasn't looking?" Sam paused for a second, and then continued. "Well, ok, he did manage to get that bag open when I forgot to put it away but that's beside the point. It's not like I can just leave out some extra food and water and leave him on his own. You know he's not good about pacing himself if I put out too much food. Besides, he likes to have company. Maybe you should stay here and I'll go by myself."

"You forget about Rachel."

"Rachel? My assistant at StarBright? You think she'd be willing to come by and check in on Comet? I know she did it when we went to Hawaii."

"Yeah, but we were living in Albuquerque then." He saw Sam's face drop. "Listen, Rachel loves Comet. I bet she'd take him in a heartbeat." He paused. "Since she's still living in Albuquerque...and we're in Alamogordo, we'd have to leave him with her."

"I don't know. He's just getting used to house. I'm not sure it would be such a good idea to introduce him to another strange place. I don't want to stress him out." Sam caught sight of the way his friend was looking at him as he voiced his reservations. "Stop looking at me like that. I'm not being soft like you always accuse me. He's my responsibility. He depends on me and I just want to do what's best for him."

Al blew out a breath. "Sam, you want to go after that private funding, I said I'm good with that. However, I'm going to be there too. I'm telling you, these kinds of people chew people up and spit them out without a second thought. They'd probably have your head spinning with so much financial gobble-d-goop, you'd be ready to sign over your own mother. Comet will be fine with Rachel."

"So, you're saying they're going to chew me up and spit me out if I don't have you there?" Realizing his voice had raised and he'd attracted the attention of the elderly couple, Sam grabbed Al's arm and pulled him over a corner away from the couple. "I can handle this on my own, you know. Sometimes you make it sound like I've never had to do anything financial in my life. Just because I don't have an MBA doesn't mean I'm some kind of simpleton when it comes to dealing with investors. As I recall, you don't have one either unless you went back to school and didn't say anything."

Al blinked a few times. "Listen, I just want to have your back. I won't say a word if things are going swell...I'll just eat their caviar and pretend the club soda is champagne." His eyes took on a slightly more intense look. "And I know you're not stupid. You're one of the most brilliant people I've ever met...but you're also one of the nicest guys that's ever graced this planet. That's what I'm worried about. That they'll take advantage of that."

"Oh, so instead of being a simpleton, I'm naïve. Gee, thanks a lot."

"That's not what I said and you know it's not what I meant," Al growled slightly.

"I know," Sam said with a sigh. "I guess I'm just a little frustrated right now. You know me. I like to have some measure of control over things and a little time to plan. This just came as a curve. I figured they'd want to meet but I thought they'd hold out until after the New Year and I'd have time to get stuff together and time for the holidays too. Instead, I feel like it's all rush, rush, rush." He let out another small sigh and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I've got that seminar at Columbia that I'm barely prepared for and I have _nothing_ ready for this. I guess I'm just a little nervous."

The older man put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I get that, Kid. I just want to help. That's what friends...and partners are for, right?"

"Right." Looking over Al's shoulder, Sam could see that the elderly couple had finished and were now leaving. "Looks like it's our turn."

"Yeah," Al stated as they moved over to take the chairs that had been vacated.

"Al. Sam. It's good to see you again," the man behind the desk greeted as he put out his hand to the two men. "What can I do for you? Planning a vacation?"

"I wish," Sam said too softly for Mark to hear.

Al shot a sideways look at his friend having heard the comment but said nothing. "Sam needs to make some changes to that New York trip he's got planned and I'm going to be going as well."

Mark pulled out the information he had for Sam's current itinerary and scanned through it. "You're leaving Sunday morning, and coming home on Tuesday." He smiled at the two men. "So, sounds like you've decided to make a vacation out of it."

"No exactly," Sam responded. "I just found out that I have a business meeting in New York on the 20th so I'll need to extend it so that I'm coming home on the 21st."

"Twenty-second," Al interrupted. "You need to have an extra day padding in case they have any questions," he explained when Sam shot him a look.

"So you'll need to change the hotel from two nights to six and book a different return flight?" Mark asked to clarify. "And you'll want to be on the same flights," he asked Al. "Will you need a room as well?"

"Same flight," Al confirmed. "Sam and I can room together." He turned to his friend. "That is, if you don't mind, Kid."

"No, not a problem."

The two men waited while Mark did the work necessary to change the travel arrangements to suit the now scheduled meeting. Once that was done, he handed Sam a sheet that had new totals on it.

As he took the sheet and scanned it, Sam's face blanched when he saw how much the hotel room was going to be. "There a problem?" Mark asked seeing the look on the other man's face.

"Uh, the hotel…that's a little pricey, isn't it?"

Al took the paper from Sam and also looked at the price. "Didn't you say the university was going to reimburse you for your travel?"

"Only for the two nights I was originally going to be in New York."

"What about the group you're meeting with. Seems to me they should cover some of this."

"I don't want to feel beholden to them, Al." When the older man frowned, Sam forged forward. "That's just the way I want it to be. Besides, you've told me we can write off business costs, right?" He looked back down at the page in his hand. "I just wish it wasn't this expensive."

"Could I make a suggestion," Mark offered. "Instead of staying in Manhattan, why don't you stay in New Jersey? The rates will be significantly cheaper and I can almost guarantee a bigger room than what you'd get in Manhattan."

"I'd have to rent a car then," Sam countered. "It would probably end up costing just as much."

"Not necessarily." Mark pulled a brochure from his desk and turned it so Al and Sam could see it. "This is located in Jersey City. That's right across the Hudson from lower Manhattan. There's a PATH station – that's a subway line between New Jersey and Manhattan – about a two minute walk away. It goes to the World Trade Center and from there; you take the subway or cab to wherever you have to be."

Sam and Al exchanged glances. Al was more inclined to stay in Manhattan even with the higher price tag attached but he knew that it would be a problem for Sam. Considering he had both the meeting with the Millennium Group as well as the seminar, it would probably be best not to have him stressed over something that was so trivial. "What do you think, Sam? Would that work better for you?"

Sam nodded. "It would. Can you check to see how much the rates for that would be?"

Mark made the necessary phone call. When Sam saw the new room rate, he let out a little sigh of relief. As Mark had said, the rate was significantly less. It was just about half what the Manhattan hotel would cost. "Let's do this," he said as he handed the paper back.

"Great." Mark took the paper back and put it in the folder with the rest of the information for Sam's trip. "I'll get this set up and make your flight arrangements. I can have the itinerary and your boarding passes couriered over to you either later today or tomorrow."

"Sounds good, Mark." Al said as all three men stood. "Thanks for the help."

Sam echoed Al's thanks and, after a bit of small talk the two men were on their way out of the travel agency.

"When we get home, you just need to call Rachel and see if she can take care of Comet for you and we'll be all set." He slapped the younger man lightly on the back. "You'll see. This'll end up turning into a little mini vacation."

"I hope so, Al," Sam agreed as the two men walked back to the car. He didn't know why but he had a feeling this trip was going to prove very interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Al nearly bounced down the stairs as he came out of his bedroom and entered the living room. "Packing's done," he announced before seeing that Sam was deep in thought. "Oh, sorry," he offered when Sam's annoyed eyes raised to meet his.

"Don't worry," Sam grumped. "I should probably be apologizing." He tossed the pad of paper he held down onto the couch. "I'm not going to be ready for either one of these things." He leaned his head against the couch back and slumped down. As soon as he did, Comet jumped up and into his lap. As soon as he felt the weight of the cat, he unconsciously started patting him. "I haven't even started to pack yet. I need to finish the presentation for the seminar and I've got most of the presentation for Thursday I still need to finish."

"I could help you...with the packing I mean."

Sam's head came up from the couch and he looked critically at Al taking in the black, pinstriped pants, purple silk shirt and geometric tie in colors that made Sam think an Easter egg had vomited on it. "I'd take you up on that but I'm almost afraid of what I'd end up having to wear."

"Oh come on. I've only known you for six years now. I may not find your choice of dress the most stylish or exciting, but I do know your style."

"And you're constantly trying to get me to change it. Face it, Al," Sam said as a small smile quirked his lips, "you'd probably take this as your golden opportunity to do that."

The older man looked at his friend. "I'm not going to say that I don't think you could liven things up in your wardrobe, but I know we're never going to see eye to eye on that. Really, though, right now I just want to relieve a little stress for you. You've been working on those presentations for days now and I can see you're frustrated."

Sam looked down at the cat in his lap who was happily purring then up at his friend. "I don't think frustrated even begins to cover it. Remind me again why I agreed to this seminar." He again looked down at Comet, coming to a decision. "Ok. Just don't pack any of the suits at the back of the closet no matter how much you might think they're appropriate."

"What do you mean? They look great on you."

"That's what I mean except I think you need to use the past tense." Seeing the look Al gave him, Sam squirmed slightly. "I guess I've put on a little weight since I bought them. It's been six years," he quickly defended himself.

"It can't be that much. A little tailoring and they'd be fine."

"Oh no," Sam refused. "I've got enough without adding in getting suits tailored. Just pack the gray one I bought earlier this year. I'll only need one."

"What if you need to meet with the Millennium Group more than once?" Al considered also suggesting the Millennium Group could have someone in the audience at Sam's lecture. It wasn't a stretch. He figured as tightly wound as the Kid was, that wouldn't help matters a bit.

"Do you really think they're going to keep track of what I'm wearing?" Sam countered.

"I've seen people do it," Al replied. "I guess we could always go to Brook's Brothers or something if we needed to."

"Brooks Bro..." Sam started to say but cut himself off. "This isn't a shopping spree, Al. If they notice, well then...they'll think I'm frugal and don't spend money willy silly."

"I'm just saying, Sam...let's check out the lay of the land. Some of these nozzles can be awful petty."

"Whatever, Al. It is what it is. Just remember, it gets cold in New York in December and I don't like being cold."

"The cashmere doesn't fit either?" Al asked, confused.

"Huh?" At first, Sam wasn't sure what Al was getting at but then figured it out. "Oh, I didn't mean my coat. The cashmere still fits...I haven't gained that much weight. I meant whatever you decided to pack for me for the rest of the time when I'm not wearing a suit. You know, jeans, sweaters, that kind of thing."

"Oh. That's easy. I know what you like to wear during your downtime. You can take the man out of the country but you can't take the country out of the man."

"Yeah, something like that. Well, do your worst."

Ok. And you do your best...on that stuff," Al said, nodding to the pad of paper that Sam was still working on.

Sam barely noticed when Al left the living room. "Maybe I should send you in to supervise," he said the cat. "Hey, Al," he called out as remembered something he'd forgotten to tell his friend.

The other man walked out of the bedroom, a couple of Sam's favorite sweaters in his hands, "Yeah?"

"I...uh...I almost forgot to tell you. When I contacted the Millennium Group, I told them my business partner was an admiral in the US Navy."

"Well, you weren't lying. I still hold that rank in the reserves."

"I know that. It's just that if you're going to this meeting, they'll expect to meet Rear Admiral Albert Calavicci not Al Calavicci, the Beau Brummel of Alamogordo. You get what I'm saying?"

"Beau Brummel was good but I don't think I could have gone with all those cravats," he groused. Then he realized what Sam was saying. "You want me to bring my service dress blues?"

"If that's what you call them."

"That's what they are." He sighed. "Guess that means I don't get to wear my red zoot suit."

Sam's eyes widened slightly when heard 'red zoot suit'. He was suddenly very thankful that he'd told them that Al was a Navy Admiral. "You weren't going to, were you? Geez, were you planning on sabotaging this by making them think my partner was a graduate of Clown College?"

"Got 'cha, Kid," Al said with a smile spreading across his face. "No, I wasn't going to wear that. Already have the uniform packed."

"Ha ha. I'm killing myself laughing here," Sam deadpanned.

"Hey, you don't get out of this trip that easy," Al quipped back.

"You plan on propping up my dead body?" At a meow from Comet, Sam glanced down at him. "You're just worried about your next meal," he gently scolded while scratching behind his ears. The cat purred and settled down again. As he did, Sam reached for the discarded pad of paper. "I think I'm just about done with the presentation for Monday."

"That's good. If you don't have anything else, I'll get back to your packing."

"Yeah, ok." Again, Al had walked away when Sam called him back to ask, "How'd you know to pack your uniform?"

Al turned and smiled at his friend. "I figured you might have mentioned it considering our time at Starbright. Besides, I learned a long time ago that wearing it when business is being discussed can be as good as an ace in the hole. I want this to succeed for you."

Sam shook his head slightly at his friend's explanation. No matter how much Al didn't think private funding was the way to go, he was still willing to do what was necessary to support Sam. "Thanks, Al."

"Hey, no problem, Kid. Now let me get back to your packing."

"Thanks for that, too." As he reached to pick up the pad of paper again, Comet voiced his displeasure at being displaced. "Maybe I'll just go to my office. I don't think you're going to give me peace," he said looking at the cat.

Al turned back again. "Oh, I meant to tell you. Rachel called back. She said everything's cool but she asked if we could bring Comet's bowl and whatever food he likes best. She thinks that will help with his adjustment while we're gone."

"I'll pack that tomorrow morning." Sam picked the cat up off his lap, put him down on the couch, and got up. "I'm still a little worried about leaving him."

"He'll be fine. Besides, you're going to have to get used to the dog and pony shows. This probably won't be the last time."

"Not the last time?" Sam questioned stopping at the door to his office. "Once we get funding, I don't see why I have to keep doing these presentations."

"How much funding do you think you're going to get on the first round? Probably not enough to buy the land, hire the contractors, buy the materials, hire the scientists, and the other multiple things we'll need to do. Your project is cutting edge and that's always expensive."

Hearing the laundry list Al recited, Sam turned around, his jaw dropped. "I'm going to have to keep doing this? How long? How many times? How am I supposed to ever get any real work done if I have to keep doing this...this...dog and pony show," he finished using the description Al had used. He leaned against the doorframe discouraged. "I've got to be crazy to think I could get me own project going."

"You're not crazy, Kid. Don't worry. It's going to work out. Right now, just focus on your presentation. Who knows, maybe you'll get enough up front that it'll be months before you need to go back to the well."

"And maybe, if I'm really lucky, I can impress them enough that it'll be years instead."

"You keep working that angle, Sam. Let me handle the other stuff. That's what partners are for, right?"

"Yeah," Sam responded with a weak smile. "While we're on the subject, I don't suppose you'd be interested in doing that seminar at Columbia on Monday, would you?"

"They don't want to listen to me. They want a bona fide Nobel Prize scientist speaking to that crowd. Besides, it can't hurt in getting the funding that you're in demand on the academic circuit."

"I'm not 'in demand.' I'm just doing this as a favor for Professor Jessup. Believe me, after Monday, no one's going to want me to get in front of a lecture hall again for a long, long time."

"I sincerely doubt that."

"You've never seen me get in front of a room to speak." Sam shrugged slightly. "I'm not very good when it comes to public speaking and it shows. It's usually a feat if I can get through it without having to leave the podium to go in back and use a bucket...if you know what I mean."

"You'll do fine." Al had gone back into the bedroom but a few minutes later he was standing in the door of his friend's office. "Sam, where are your socks. I know you have to have more than two."

"Sock drawer," Sam absently answered without looking up.

"That's where I looked. Nothing there, Kid. You have to have moved them or something."

Blowing out an irritated breath, Sam got up and went into his bedroom. He pulled open the top drawer of the dresser by the door. "They're right he..." he began to say but trailed off when he saw only the two mismatched socks Al had mentioned. "Oh boy. I was going to do laundry but then I got so wrapped up in finishing the Columbia presentation and starting the one for Zenith, it must have slipped my mind."

"Ok. You go back to work. I'll finish the laundry for you." Al chuckled.

"I'll do it," Sam countered. "I need a break from that for a little while anyway."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. You afraid I'm going to pull the absent-minded professor and flood the laundry room or something," the younger man asked with a laugh.

"No...but I know you don't have a lot of time. If you want to do your laundry, knock yourself out...but if you need the time to finish your presentation, I don't mind doing it."

"Getting away from it for a little while might do me some good."

"Sounds like a plan. Once you have your socks, you're all done."

Sam went into his bedroom and started sorting through the laundry in the hamper. As he did, he kept talking with his friend. "I think I've just about got the presentation for Monday done. Would you mind reading through it? Let me know what you think."

"Sure. I'd be happy too. You want me to do that while you're working on your laundry?"

"Would you," Sam started to say as Comet came into his room. The cat took one look at the pile of laundry, picked up a gray sock in his mouth and turned to leave. "Hey, give me that," Sam said grabbing the trailing end of the sock. The cat, thinking he was playing, hung on to his end. "C'mon, I don't have time for this. Give me it."

"There's one of his catnip mice in the corner. Maybe you could trade."

"I don't think he wants to trade," Sam said as he still fought with the cat for the sock. "He wants to play." Dropping the sock, he started to scratch the cat's head. "We haven't played much, have we?" He picked Comet up, continuing to scratch behind his ears. Content, the cat dropped the sock and started to purr. "I promise, as soon as we get back, we can play then but right now," he carried the cat out to the living room put him on the couch, "I need to get the laundry done and you need to stay there."

Al had moved to the couch and was sitting reading Sam's presentation when Comet decided he was the next best thing to his owner. The cat batted at the paper a few times but Al pushed him over slightly. "I'm reading here."

The cat, finding Al wasn't conducive to play jumped down and ran after Sam again.

A few minutes later Sam came out of his room with a basket of laundry and the cat trailing after him. "I think he knows something's up. He's sticking like glue."

"Hmmm?" Al said before looking up. "Oh, Comet. I guess."

"You see any other 'he's' around here?"

"No...I meant I guess he knows something's going on." Al held up the paper. "You might want to do a little more clarification in this part, Kid. It's a little convoluted."

Sam reached over to the take the paper from the other man and read the part indicated. "It made sense when I was writing it." He let out a little sigh. "I've got a feeling after Monday; it's going to be a long time before anyone wants me to be a speaker."

I wouldn't count on it. That Nobel acts as a balance to anything you say. Besides, what you have there is good."

"Thanks." Sam handed the paper back to Al.

"How's the other presentation going? You decided how you're going to reel them in?"

"A sharp hook and fishing line?" Sam joked before turning serious. "I don't know. You saw how I phrased things in the proposal." He knew that Al had read through the document that had gotten them into their current situation. "I thought it might be a good idea to sell them on the idea of the computer and what it can do…save the time travel for after I've got them hooked. I start with that, they're going to be more likely to want to send me to a looney bin than to provide funding."

"You're going to need to be careful on how much you tell them, though. Don't want them taking the idea and running with it. There's also some technology that we need to clear."

Sam blew out a noisy breath. "This is going to be a lot harder than I ever thought it was."

"I know, Sam. Raising money is seldom a fun job. You want me to give you a hand on the presentation?"

"I'd like to say yes but...I need to be the one to sell them on this so I should do the work. I'll let you read through it once it's done."

"Ok. Sounds good. And don't worry...I'm sure it's going to be fine."

"I'm glad you're sure." Sam collected the notebook and papers from the couch. "I'm going in the office to finish this. I really hate to ask since it's my responsibility but, would you mind tossing the laundry in the dryer when it's done...and, maybe, get Comet's stuff pulled together?"

"No problem, Kid." He paused. "You might want to focus on the type of analysis that the computer will do. From what you've told me, that's going to be something that'll get their attention."

"That's what I was planning. I'm glad you're on the same page as me. And thanks for the help with the packing. When we get back, I'll owe you a whole bunch."

"You know I don't keep score."

"I know but, still."

"But nothing. You're stressed out enough as it is and I'm happy to help."

"Well, I'm grateful." Sam started walking to his office but stopped and turned back. "What time do we need to leave tomorrow morning?"

"The plane takes off at two o'clock; four hours to Albuquerque...I figure if we leave by eight thirty we won't be rushing anything."

"You sure? We've got to drop Comet off first and what if there's traffic?"

"Rachel lives in Los Lunas. It's on the way and the airport's on the south side of town as well. Besides, traffic doesn't get heavy until we're close to Albuquerque so we should make good time getting there."

"Well, ok. I don't like to cut things close, though."

"I know." Al looked thoughtful. "You still have those valiums from the last time you flew?" He knew Sam didn't like to fly and would take a low dose of an anti-anxiety medication to ease his fears.

"I think there's still some. Why?"

"You might be sure to pack that in your carry-on. Just in case."

"Just in case what?"

"You know how jumpy you get if we hit any turbulence or storms. I just think it would be good to carry them with you."

"Oh. I thought you meant…ah, forget what I thought you meant. It's not important." Sam held up the notepad and papers. "I'm just going to go finish this up."

Al looked at his friend. "You can't do that. Why did you think I meant?"

"Can't do what? Finish this? I need it for Monday so I had better finish it. And it really doesn't matter what I think."

"It does to me." Al sighed. "Fine, I'll just go finish the laundry."

"Don't be like that, Al. It was stupid what I was thinking and it's better left unsaid. I'm tired and little frazzled right now so it's just better I keep my mouth shut."

"Ok. You just keep working on that presentation."

Sam nodded and started for the office again. As he did, Comet started to weave between his legs. "Oh no. You're staying out here. You come in there with me and you're just going to keep trying to distract me." He bent down, picked up the cat and brought him back to the couch. "Stay there 'cause I'm going to shut the door."

The cat looked up at Sam with sad eyes and meowed plaintively at him.

"It's not going to work." The cat meowed again and Sam bent down to scratch behind his ears. "Sorry, buddy. Not tonight." He stood up and looked over to Al. "You mind getting him some treats?"

"Yeah." He started into the kitchen, "Come on, Fat Cat." Comet, seeing Al moving to the room that meant food, complied.

"He's not fat," Sam called from the office before closing the door. He settled down at the desk to tackle the changes Al had suggested for his presentation. Once that was done, he started on the presentation for the Millennium Group. As he worked, he could hear his friend moving around on the other side of the closed door. He lost track of time as he worked and soon found himself fighting to keep his eyes open as he worked.

After they came back from the kitchen, Comet happily licking his lips, Al looked over to Sam's office. The door was closed. Going over to the couch, he retrieved the remote and the TV Guide, found a show and put it on. After it was over, he went to Sam's door to see if he needed anything. "Sam?" he asked tapping slightly. When he didn't get an answer, he opened the door slightly. "Sam?" Looking at the man's head laying on his arms in front of him, Al walked over to the desk and shook his friend gently. "Kid, you're going to get a crick in your neck sleeping like that."

"Huh? Wha?" Sam asked blinking his eyes then looking at the other man.

"You need to go to bed. You can work on the presentation on the plane or something. Right now, you're too tired. You need to get your beauty sleep."

Sam considered contradicting his friend for a few seconds but chose not to. Al was right. He was too tired right now and was likely to make mistakes he couldn't afford. He tiredly climbed to his feet. "Yeah. Time for bed." He started to walk out of the office asking, "What time is it anyway?"

"It's about nine," Al answered. "Let me pull your suitcase off your bed. I'll put it out here on the chair and once I've got the laundry, I'll finish your packing before I go to bed."

Hearing that his packing wasn't yet complete, Sam became a little more alert. "I'll do it. I'll finish packing then I can..." the rest of what he was going to say came out garbled in a yawn.

Uh uh. No way. Socks are the last thing needed and then it's done. You need your sleep."

"I guess so," Sam agreed as he got up. When he got to the living room, Comet was waiting by his bedroom door looking at him expectantly. "I'm coming," Sam said to the cat.

"You know, you give way to much credit to that cat's personality."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam leaned down and scooped the cat up, scratching behind his ears. "He waits here just about every night until I got to bed."

"Yeah...I get that but..." Al saw Sam awaiting his words. "Ok, ok. You guys have a special bond. We'll leave it at that."

"Go ahead. Say what you were going to say," Sam prompted.

"I just think you think Comet is more than...just a cat."

"What's that supposed to mean? I know he's a cat. He's just managed to…uh…train me well," Sam said with a small laugh.

"Yeah. That must be it," Al said with a smile. "Anyways, you two have a good night."

"You too, Al." Sam went into his bedroom and put Comet down on his bed before gathering his pajamas. He went out to the bathroom to change and get ready for the night. When he came back in the room, Comet was still on the bed waiting.

Nudging the cat out of the way, Sam pulled the covers back and got into bed. As soon as he'd settled down on his side, Comet curled up on the bed by his chest. It didn't take long before both were sleeping.

After the cat and his friend went to bed, Al continued to watch TV. About fifteen minutes later, the laundry was dry. Folding socks, Al's mind wandered. He really hoped that Sam's plans worked out but he still wasn't sure that going the private money route was the best for his friend. Sam didn't appear to understand there would be strings attached...some Al was sure that Sam wouldn't like. Still, it was Sam's project. He'd support him no matter what. Taking a number of the folded socks, Al finished the packing and then went to bed himself. They had a long day the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Bright and early in the morning, Sam and Al were both up. After a quick breakfast, Al brought their luggage out to Sam's car while his friend got Comet ready to travel. When he got back in the house, the cat was in the carrier clearly making it known that he was not happy. Sam was leaning against the kitchen counter dabbing antiseptic on the scratches on his arm.

"What happened?" Al asked his friend.

"Comet let me know that he did not want to get in the carrier."

Al gave a cursory look at the scratches on Sam's arm and quickly deduced that it wasn't anything serious. "Having been in similar conditions, I can't say I blame him," he commiserated with the cat.

"When we come home, you're getting him in there." Sam threw the gauze pad in the trash then knelt down so he could look in the carrier. "If you think you're getting catnip when we get home, you're dreaming."

Al smiled lightly knowing it was unlikely his friend would keep that promise. Where the cat was concerned, Sam tended to pamper the animal in his opinion. "Come on, Kid. We need to get to Rachel's. Comet will be just fine."

"We're coming." Sam picked up the cat carrier and rested it on the counter while he opened the small bag that was on it. He took out a few of the cat treats and pushed them into the carrier with Comet. "That's only because it's a long ride, not because you were a good cat." Grabbing the carrier, he walked to front door. "Hey, Al. You mind driving? I'm going to have to do a little first aid on the scratches while we're driving."

"Yeah, sure." He grabbed the keys from Sam and went to the driver's side and adjusted the seat. Al then watched as Sam checked the door to the house twice, not to mention mentally going over the close up of the house mentallybefore giving him the go ahead to pull out. Once on the road, the conversation turned to small talk...sports, household things, and the like. Occasionally, they'd hear a plaintive meow from the backseat as if the cat were reminding them he was there.

Traffic was light and they pulled up to Rachel's house a little earlier than they expected. While Sam got the cat out of the backseat, Al went to the door and rang the doorbell. A moment later, Sam's former assistant opened the door and gave him a hug. "Al! It's so good to see you. Alamogordo's appears to be doing you no harm."

"It's fine. A little too warm on occasion, but overall, it's nice. You'll have to come visit us sometime."

"I'd like that." She saw the cat carrier in Sam's arms. "Oh...looks like Comet's grown since the last time I saw him."

"Well, you know Sam...offers him treats a little too often." He failed to say that he was equally as guilty at times.

"Like I'm the only one," Sam said coming up behind his friend. "Hi, Rachel."

"Hi, Sam. I've heard about your talk at Columbia. A couple of the scientists from Sandia are going to be there."

"Oh boy," Sam mumbled. Comet shifted in the carrier and meowed. "You mind if I take him in so I can let him out of this? He hasn't been happy."

"Of course not. The sooner he gets acclimated, the better for all of us," She said, stepping to the side to allow Sam to walk by. She and Al moved in behind as she shut the door. She looked around. "Lucky is around here somewhere."

Sam set the carrier down on the living room floor. When he did, Rachel's cat came over and sniffed at it. "Hey, Lucky," he said as he scratched the cat's head. "It's your brother, Comet." The two cats looked at each other through the carrier's grate until Sam gently pushed Lucky aside so he could release Comet. As soon as the door was open, Comet bounded out.

The two cats sniffed at each other for a few moments before Comet turned back to Sam and meowed. Sam picked him up and scratched behind his ears. "It's just Lucky. She's your sister," he explained to the cat. He looked to where Al and Rachel were standing. "It takes him a while to get used to a new place." He put Comet on the floor again then reached into his pocket and pulled out the cat's favorite toy. "You want this?" The cat took the toy in his mouth and sat by Sam looking at the female cat.

"He's still got the pacifier?" Rachel asked with a laugh when she saw the toy in Comet's mouth.

"He does." Al had brought the pacifier home when Comet was still a kitten as a joke. Neither he nor Sam thought he'd actually play with it but it had quickly become his favorite toy.

"Well, you know, I do pick out the best stuff," Al said with a smile. He changed the subject. "So, Rachel, what have I been hearing about you and David Pederson. This getting serious?"

Rachel smiled. "Yeah. He gave me this last night." She held out her hand, which was sporting a modest size but beautifully set diamond.

Seeing the ring, Sam got up from where he was still on the floor with the cats. "Congratulations," he said quickly hugging Rachel.

"I expect both of you to be there. It won't be until next summer."

"Of course we'll be there. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Great!"

Al gave his congratulations as well adding, "David's a fine young man but I think he got the best part of the deal."

Rachel smiled. "I don't know. I think we're both pretty lucky."

"Yeah, lucky," Sam said softly trying to put thoughts of Donna from his mind.

"I wish you and David the best, Rachel," Al told her.

"Me too," Sam agreed. "Can you grab the bag with Comet's stuff from the car and I'll make sure he's going to be ok," he asked Al. He knelt on the floor again, and Comet came over to him waiting to be picked up. Sam obliged. "You be a good boy and don't make any trouble." He scratched the cat under the chin earning a purr. "If you're good, I'll have a treat for you when we get back."

Rachel took the cat from Sam and scratched between Comet's ears. "He's going to be fine, Sam," she ensured with a light laugh. It was hard to tell who was more upset about the separation – Comet or Sam.

"I know," Sam agreed as she stood up. He gave one more scratch to the cat's head, said goodbye and moved to the door as Al came in with the bag of Comet's stuff. "Let's get going."

"Ok," Al agreed as he put the bag down by the door. "Everything he needs should be in here. We'll give you a call after we get to New York," he told the woman.

Sam was starting to open the door when he stopped. "Oh, I almost forgot." He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper that he handed to Rachel. "That's the number of the hotel where we're staying. Give me a call if there are any problems."

Rachel chuckled lightly, "You two are really attached to Comet. I'm sure everything will be fine. Now go and have some fun in the Big Apple."

Sam just shrugged slightly at the accusation. It wasn't one he could deny. In the six years he'd had the cat, he'd grown attached to him. Although, from the way Comet was looking at him as if he could sense something was up, he had a feeling it went both ways.

"We will," Al said. As they walked to the car, he commented to Sam, "He's the first pet I've had since Chester."

"The first one I've had since Donder and Blitzen on the farm."

"I think it's just natural to bond with animals you live with."

"Or maybe you're just an old softie," Sam accused with a smile as he got into the car.

"Who me?" the older man asked with exaggerated questioning as he started the car.

"No, the guy in the backseat," Sam deadpanned.

"You know, you're pretty soft too. I think Comet's got both our numbers."

"Sometimes I think he's the closest I might come to having a kid," Sam said in a low voice with his face turned toward the window.

"Don't say that, Sam. You don't know what the future will hold," Al said as he made his way through the side streets back to the interstate.

"Whatever's going to happen is going to happen. If Comet is all I ever have for a kid…well…at least I don't have to worry about college tuition."

"There is that." Al was quiet as he turned onto the onramp. Once they had merged, he added, "I always wondered what things would have been like if I'd had a child."

"You'd make a great dad." Sam looked over to Al. "You know, it's not too late for you either."

"Me? I've been married five times. I not sure when number six will come along, if she ever does. Besides, I'll be sixty in a few years. You think it would be fair to a kid to start that late?" He shook his head. "No. I don't think there will be children in my future...but if there are some in yours, I'd be proud to be a designated uncle."

"Uncle Al, huh?" Sam asked. He mulled that thought over for a moment. "The rate I'm going and with you almost calling yourself old, maybe Grampa Al would be more like it."

"Grampa? I said I'd be sixty, not ancient," Al complained.

"You might be by the time I have a kid," Sam pointed out.

"We'll see," the older man answered non-committedly. He nodded to the sign they had just passed. "Airport's coming up. You have our tickets, right?"

"Tickets?" Sam questioned with a slight panicked look on his face.

"Yeah. Didn't you put them in your carryon? I was sure I saw you do that."

"Uhh..." Sam pulled off his seatbelt, turned around in the seat, and leaned back to the backseat so he could reach his carryon. "Watch it," he complained when his friend hit a bump in the road almost toppling him over.

"Sorry," Al responded.

Snagging his carryon, Sam unzipped the front pocket, put his hand inside of it and pulled out the tickets. He put them back then turned back around. "They're in there."

"Good. You gonna be ok?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Sam questioned.

"You're not exactly a happy camper when you're flying."

"I'm not exactly a fan of it. All that empty space between the plane and the ground." A visible shudder went through Sam's body. "It just gives me the willies"

"And planes are safer than taking a bath. You know the statistics."

"Statistics are logical," Sam pointed out. "Fear, on the other hand, is completely illogical. Now, do you want to try to discuss logical statistics with my illogical fear of heights? I can almost guarantee how that's going to turn out."

"It was worth a shot. You're probably the most brilliant man I've ever known. If anyone can banish illogic through logic, I'd figure you're the one." Al paused. "You or Mr. Spock. Dr. Who, maybe."

"Intelligence really has nothing to do with the illogic of fear. You're no slouch in the intelligence department yourself but you're not exactly...Mr. Spock...when you have to get into tight spaces."

"Because I had to live in a space too small to either lie down or stand up in for six years. For me, it isn't illogical fear, its experience."

"You couldn't get out of that space and that forms the basis of the fear you have today - that if you're in a cramped space it might happen again...and it brings back the memories of a horrible experience for you. It's no different for me."

"Yeah, but after that, I still went into space on Apollo. I may not have liked it, but I accepted the inevitable."

"And I do too. I've gotten on planes in the past, and I'm getting on one today. So what if I get a little nervous about it." He neglected to add that it was challenge to climb more than a couple of rungs up a ladder without the fear kicking in or that he avoided looking out the window when he was on an upper floor.

They pulled into the airport parking. "Fine, we're even. We both live with our irrational fears."

"You don't have to get so testy about it. You're the one who brought it up in the first place. Besides, I bet I've lived with mine longer so that puts me ahead," Sam said with a smirk.

"Yeah, I guess I did. It's just, I was hoping I could figure out a way to have you not have to face it and you start talking like it's a badge or something." Al went over to a baggage cart and paid to pull out one. "Here, put your stuff on this"

Sam put his luggage on the cart then faced his friend. "I've lived with a fear of heights for the last twenty-eight years of my life. I really don't think anything you say to me today is going to change that." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box, holding it for the other man to see. "Besides, I've got my friends here that will help make the flight much easier for both of us. As soon as we check in, I'll take two of these and by the time the flight takes off, I'll be all set."

Al put his own luggage on top of Sam's. "What's that? I thought you were bringing your valium." He started to push the cart.

"Diphenhydramine….Benadryl. I need to take something for motion sickness. This will kill two birds with one stone. It'll help the motion sickness and make me drowsy." Sam took his carryon from the backseat and put it on top of the suitcases. "What is it with you and Valium? You make it sound like I'm a high-strung junkie or something."

"Valium's just a mild tranquilizer, though. You told me that once. It's not like I'm suggesting street drugs."

"It's a prescription strength benzo. I'm really not into taking strong drugs if I don't have to. It's also addictive so, yes, it may as well be a street drug...and don't think there's not a market for it."

"Ok, you're the one with the MD. I just never saw it as a problem."

"I do have a problem with taking unnecessary drugs especially if there's a risk of dependence. I saw enough of what drug addiction can do when I was an intern. When Dr. Johnson prescribed it when I had the insomnia after the whole thing with Donna that was different. I hadn't slept more than three hours in a week and it was medically sound. I don't consider it sound to take it just because I get a little antsy flying." He held up the box again. "This will do the trick and I won't need an airsickness bag either. I'd think you'd like that part."

They two walked into the airport and Al pushed them towards the ticket counter where they could check in and drop off their checked luggage. "What I meant was you're not the type to abuse any drug whether it was prescription or not. Hell, I have to fight you sometime to take a Tylenol...or an aspirin or something. Valium could be habit forming but I doubt you'd let that happen." He paused, seeing Sam look away. "What? Did you think that was happening when he prescribed them for you after Donna?" Al had watched Sam nearly fall apart when the...bitch was all he could think to call her...left him at the altar. It hurt him to think that the pain could drive his friend so far from his norm.

"Maybe," Sam answered with a shrug. "The only way I slept for the next week was if I took it. I didn't like that so I just stopped."

"Ah, Kid." The older man put his hand on the younger one's shoulder. "You shouldn't have had to deal with all that. What she did was wrong on so many levels."

"Yeah, well, that's all over now," Sam said with finality. "Water under the bridge."

"Yeah." Al knew this was Sam's way to putting an end to that particular conversation. Whenever that specific topic rose, it ended the same, with his friend pushing away the pain. Al understood. He'd done the same thing to deal with the loss of Beth when he returned home from Vietnam. The two stood in silence until they made it to the counter. After going through the basic question and answers for security, they dropped their bags and headed towards the gate. Al noticed a store with various sundries. "You want a bottle of water? I'm getting one for me."

"I'll need one to take the Benadryl. You want me to take your bag and I'll wait for you over there," Sam said pointing to a row of plastic chairs that was near the gate their flight would be leaving from.

"Ok." Al handed his bag over to his friend. "Be right back." He went over and picked up the water and a couple of magazines. He looked over to where Sam was sitting, obviously still in thought, and picked up a couple of Hershey bars as well. When he got back, he handled his friend his water and the chocolate.

"Thanks, Al," Sam said with a smile when he saw the chocolate. He tucked them into the front of his carryon for safe keeping. "I think I'll save them for later, though. No use tempting fate by putting anything in my stomach if it might not stay there."

"Yeah. Tempting fate wouldn't be good." Al sat down beside his friend and watched as he punched the pills out of the blister pack and took them with the water. "I was thinking we could get some Italian food tonight. New York's got some good restaurants."

"Sounds good but maybe tomorrow. With the time change, it's going to be nearly ten when we land tonight."

"Yeah. That makes sense. I just hope they have something good to eat on the plane. Good being relative."

"It's usually not so great," Sam agreed. "Although, it can't be worse than what they gave me when I was in Johns Hopkins."

"You've got a point," Al conceded. "Hard to forget food that bad."

"I can't tell you how much I've tried but the taste of some of it…" a shudder rippled through Sam's body. "I swear I can still taste some of it six years later."

As they talked, the attendant at the desk called over the intercom for Sam Beckett to come up to see her.

Sam exchanged glances with Al. "What's going on," he asked as he got up went over to the desk. "I'm Sam Beckett," he told the woman there.

"Yes sir. I've received notice we can offer you an upgrade to first class."

The offer confused Sam. "I didn't request that. Are you sure you've got the right person?"

"You are Dr. Samuel J. Beckett? That was listed in your profile."

"Yes. That's me."

"Then everything's in order. We like to reward our special travelers when we can with an upgrade." She looked down at her screen. "Nobel prize in Physics. Quite an accomplishment."

"It was and still is," Al said. He'd come up to see what was going on.

"Wait a minute. You're telling me that you're upgrading me…us…because of that. That doesn't seem fair to everyone else. I don't consider myself special."

Al looked at Sam. "There aren't enough seats to upgrade everyone. I used to have them do it occasionally after I piloted the Apollo mission."

The woman looked at the other man. "Oh, you two are traveling together. Let me see," she pushed a few keys. "Perfect. We have two first class seats together."

"I know it's just…" Sam looked around and spotted an elderly couple also sitting waiting for the same flight. "Why should I get an upgrade instead of them?"

"They're already in first class," the woman pointed out. "Mr. Philips and his wife are frequent flyers with us."

"Just take the seats, Sam. It'll make it more comfortable for the five hour flight." Al paused. "Plus the food is better."

Sam glanced over at his friend and let out a little sigh. "Ok." He looked back to the woman behind the desk. "I'm sure I don't sound grateful and I am. I really am. If I take the upgrade now, is there any way to make sure it won't be offered on the return flight?"

"You don't want upgrades when they're available?"

"No, ma'am. I don't feel right taking it."

"I'll put that in your profile then." She finished a few more entries and then provided both of them with a boarding pass for first class. "Enjoy your flight."

Both men thanked her. As they walked away, Al provided, "You know, it doesn't last long anyways. Fame is fleeting."

"Fame shouldn't be a reason to get special treatment." Sam started to sit back down on one of the plastic chairs when the announcement was made that they were going to begin boarding first class. "I guess that's us."

"Yeah, we can go on board now." Al picked up his bag. "In a perfect world, you're right. But people will always find one reason or another to do things. Fame's just one of them...and I think it's nice that the airline gives you a pat on the back for the Nobel. It was pretty impressive work."

"I never did any of my work just to get perks like this," Sam argued. He followed Al to get in line to board.

"No. And I never joined the space program for them either. They just came with the territory."

"Well, maybe they shouldn't." Sam showed his boarding pass as they entered the jetway to the plane. A flight attendant met them when they boarded and pointed out where their seats were. As he put his carryon in the overhead, Sam asked, "You want the aisle or window?"

"I should probably take the window," Al said, putting his bag in the overhead as well. "You might have taken the benadryl, but I bet you still wouldn't like looking down."

"Actually, that has nothing to do with motion sickness," Sam pointed out. "Motion sickness is caused because the body sends different signals regarding movement to the brain than the eyes do. It can actually be beneficial if you can see through a window to things moving as well." He looked to the small airplane window. "Although, on airplanes that usually doesn't matter. The windows so small and, even if you do look out it, there aren't any landmarks to show movement."

"Would you like the window?"

"No. It's fine if you want to sit there. Like I said, it usually doesn't make a difference on an airplane."

"Ok. I like to see the horizon from the air. Takes me back. Don't need a large window for that." Al moved in to take the seat.

"Little more room here," Sam said as he sat down. For a change, he didn't feel like he had to bend his legs like a pretzel.

"Yeah. The seats are plusher too."

After they'd sat down, the attendant moved closer to their row. "Can I get you something? Wine perhaps?"

"Um, no thank you. Water will be fine."

She nodded. "And you, sir?" she asked, pointing her question at Sam.

Sam was tempted to get an alcoholic beverage just to calm his nerves. Since he'd taken the Benadryl, that wouldn't be a wise idea. Besides, as he knew from experience, it would probably start to make him drowsy soon. "Just water, please."

The woman smiled. "I'll be right back."

"You know, back when, I'd have probably gotten a whiskey on the rocks," Al told him.

"I remember those days," Sam agreed. "It's almost seven years."

"Yeah. Seven years and a second chance. I'd hate to think where I'd be now if not for your defense of a vending machine. Certainly not sitting in first class, that's for sure."

"Don't forget that ulterior motive I had at the time."

"Yeah...but regardless of what your initial thought was, you turned it into something else." He paused. "There's been a lot we've been through since then."

"A whole lot," Sam agreed softly thinking of some of the things they'd experienced since their first meeting. Before he could voice any of those thoughts, a yawn escaped him. "Sorry. That Benadryl's starting to work."

"That's good. You go to sleep. You'll miss the takeoff that way."

"Maybe. I don't think I'll fall asleep yet, though."

"We can hope." The attendant came back with the waters.

"Anything else I can get you?"

"A pillow for my friend," Al suggested.

She pulled one down and a blanket too. "Sometimes it gets a little chilly with the air conditioning."

"Thank you," Sam said accepting both the pillow and the blanket. "You wouldn't happen to know how much longer 'til take off, would you?"

"It'll be about twenty minutes until we pull away from the gate. Actual take off is scheduled within five minutes of that."

"Thank you," Sam said again. Once the attendant had left them, he let out a small sigh.

"You want one of the magazines I picked up?"

"No." Sam unbuckled the seatbelt and, making sure the aisle was cleared at the moment, got up. "I can use the time to go over the presentation for tomorrow. I just need to grab it from my carryon."

"Ok. That works too."

Sam grabbed the pad of paper he'd been working on and until the attendant asked for everyone's attention, he worked on the presentation. Even though he knew the spiel she would give, he wanted to show his respect by providing his focus. Not long afterwards they taxied away and the flight took off. Even with the Benadryl, Sam was still a bit nervous and didn't stopped grabbing the armrest until they were in the air.

"You can relax now, Kid. Why don't you try to rest a bit?"

"I guess," Sam agreed as he put the pad of paper in the seat pocket in front of him. He'd been fighting the drowsy feeling for a while but knew, if he continued to, it was likely he'd make a mess of the presentation.

"You want me wake you when they serve lunch?"

"Sure," Sam agreed. He reclined his seat, stuffed the pillow behind him, and spread the blanket over him, making sure that he rebuckled the seatbelt over it. "Just poke me if I snore," he said jokingly.

"Trust me, I will. Hearing you saw logs isn't my idea of inflight entertainment."

"I'm not that bad," Sam complained as he tried to get himself comfortable. No matter what he did, though, he couldn't get the blanket to stay up over his left shoulder. As soon as he shifted after getting it in place, it would slip down again.

Al watched the kid struggling. "Why don't you turn the other way instead? That way your body weight will keep the blanket still."

"It'll just fall off the other way. It might be easier if they didn't use so much air conditioning." Sam tried to get the blanket in place again. "I need another arm to do it."

"I've got one if you need it."

"Maybe just borrow it."

"Yeah. I wasn't going to give it permanent."

"Gee, really? I could use another one."

"Ha ha, Sam. If Benadryl turns you this goofy, I wouldn't advise taking it before any big event."

"That wasn't goofy. That was sarcastic," Sam pointed out.

"Semantics."

"It's not sem..." Sam started to say but was cut off by a yawn.

Al smiled. "Listen, you just go take a nap. I'll do my best to make sure the blanket doesn't fall down

"Yeah, take a nap." Sam snuggled into the thin pillow as much as he could. He smiled his thanks when Al made sure the blanket was tucked in over him then let his eyes fall closed.

About an hour into the flight, Al lightly shook Sam. "Hey, Kid. Lunch is being served."

"Mmmm…wha…?" Sam stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his body. He rubbed his eyes and looked over at his friend. "What?"

"Lunch. You know...food?"

"Oh. How long was I sleeping?"

"A little over an hour. It was a good rest." He paused. "Who's Lisa?"

"Lisa? I don't know any Lisa." Sam arched his back, trying to work out the stiffness. "You sure it was only an hour? I was hoping it was longer."

"Yeah...about an hour. You said her name a few times in your sleep. Something about a game and a dance."

"Um…don't know about that," Sam denied. He knew exactly what he was dreaming about based on what Al described but it was a subject he'd rather not discuss.

"Ok." A moment later the attendant brought their meals. Al's was a pasta primavera and Sam's was a sirloin steak with potatoes and broccoli.

"This looks better that what I've gotten on an airplane before." Sam cut off a piece of the steak and tried it. "Not bad."

"That's the way it is in first class. They actually serve edible food and you have a comfortable seat with leg room. Too bad it's usually too expensive."

"And I made sure we wouldn't be upgraded again. Next time I'm doing something noble and stupid like that, you have permission to kick me."

"And you'd just kick me back. Sometimes you're just a stubborn cuss."

"So kick harder."

"Then all we'd end up with are bruised shins. Face it, Sam...you just don't do well with getting perks. Even when you like them, you feel guilty taking them. Like you think you don't deserve them or something."

"I guess I just want to be fair."

"Yeah...but even when you do that, it doesn't mean that life's going to be any fairer. They'll just find someone else to give the perk to...and you can pretty much guarantee they won't be from the masses."

"Ok. So I'm a pushover who doesn't think these things through," Sam griped. "You don't have to keep reminding me."

"Not a pushover, Kid. You're never a pushover. You're just a really good guy. If the world had a few more like you, there wouldn't be any reason to even have this conversation." Using his fork, Al pointed at the food in front of his friend. "Now eat up."

Sam looked at the older man for just a second and shook his head slightly. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to live up to the faith his friend put in him being a good person but knew he'd always try. "Yes, Sir," he mock saluted before eating the rest of his lunch with relish.

After finishing lunch, Sam once again reclined the seat and spent the better part of the next three hours dozing on and off. With just about an hour to go in the flight, he was once more awake and going over his presentation of the next day when the 'fasten seatbelt' light came on. He was about to comment on it when the captain's voice came over the intercom warning that they were going to be going through some turbulence. "Great," he muttered.

"At least we're almost there," Al pointed out. "Another hour and we should be on the ground." As he spoke, the plane hit a pocket of turbulence and shook.

As the plane shook, Sam's eyes darted around. "If it had waited another hour that would have been even better."

Over the next few minutes, the shaking intensified. Al soon noticed that Sam didn't seem to be doing well with the turbulence. He had a death grip on the armrests and his face had noticeably paled. "You ok, Kid? You're starting to look a little green around the gills."

"No," Sam forced out through gritted teeth. "The Benadryl's worn off."

"Oh boy," Al muttered taking a guess what that meant. He leaned over and rifled through the seat pocket in front of him and pulled out one of the airsick bags that were there and handed it to his friend. "Just in case," he said with a comforting smile.

Sam accepted the bag from his friend but sincerely hoped he wouldn't need to use it. He leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut as the plane shuddered yet again. "I really want to get off now," he forced out through gritted teeth.

"Not much we can do about that at the moment. Even if you could open the door, the drop would be a doozy," Al said, doing his best to keep things light under the circumstances.

"Not funny." Sam let out a small groan. "My heads pounding and my stomach keeps flipping."

"Yeah, I know," Al commiserated. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Get another one of these," Sam forced out before making use of the airsick bag Al had handed him.

Al moved to look in the seat pocket in front of Sam, finding the same type of bag there. He pulled it out as well as his handkerchief holding both of them at the ready for when Sam was finished. "Ah, Sammy," he soothed. "It'll be over soon."

Once the vomiting ended, Sam leaned back in the seat. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

'"It's not like it was really under your control. Al looked around. "You're not the only one using that bag. Quite a few people don't particularly like being tossed about like that."

Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead as he tried to contain a shiver. "I feel horrible."

"Here," Al said handing him his handkerchief.

"Thanks," Sam said taking the handkerchief.

Al rang for the flight attendant and, when she came, asked if Sam could get some ginger ale hoping it would settle his stomach. Unfortunately, it didn't help very much and his friend spent most of the remaining hour of the flight sick.

If he hadn't felt as horrible as he did, Sam may have sung a hallelujah chorus when the pilot announced that they were on their final approach and would be landing shortly.

"Only a few minutes now, Kid," Al pointed out.

Sam nodded but didn't answer. Within a few minutes, the wheels of the plane touched down and they were taxiing to the gate. Once the plane had stopped at the gate, passengers started to get up and pull their luggage from the overhead bins. "Just give me a minute," Sam asked as he continued to stay in his seat.

"No problem. We can sit here as long as you need," Al told him.

"Thanks. I just…let's just wait 'til everyone else goes. I think I'll be ok then."

"Ok." The crowd of people continued for a good ten minutes although it was obviously that most of the passengers just wanted to get off the plane as fast as possible.

When everyone had left, Al turned to Sam. "You ready now?"

"Yeah. The sooner we get off, the sooner we can get to the hotel." Sam got up and took down his and Al's carryon from the overhead bin. "Can you grab the notepad?" he asked pointing to the seat pocket where he'd put his notes for the presentation at Columbia.

"Sure." Al grabbed the long yellow legal pad. He noticed a small drawing of a schematic console on part of it that didn't appear to be part of the presentation. "What's this?" he asked, pointing it out to his friend.

"Just doodling." Sam took the legal pad and tucked it into a pocket on his carryon. At the moment, he just didn't feel like explaining what he'd been doodling.

"Listen, once we're off the plane...why don't you pull our luggage off the carousel while I get a cab," Al suggested as he picked his carryon up from where Sam had put it on the seat. The two men started to walk towards the door of the plane. "That way we can be on our way quicker."

"Let's just stick together," Sam countered as they exited the plane into the jetway. "I have no idea how things are laid out here and I'd rather not have to go searching for you."

"I've been here a few times, Al pointed out, "but staying together is good too. I just wanted to get us out of the airport a little quicker. I just wish the flight had been better."

"Nothing to be done about how bad it was." The two men exited the jetway into the airport. "It might be quicker if you got the cab while I got the luggage but if I couldn't find you afterwards, it'd end up taking more time."

"No. I guess you're right," Al agreed. They made their way to the baggage claim. Most of the luggage was already out and he noticed one of their bags. "Shouldn't take long to get them."

"I guess waiting 'til the crowd passed had some benefit." Sam pulled the suitcase he knew was Al's off the carousel and put it down between the two of them. Unfortunately, his didn't come out quite as quickly. Al nodded to a pay phone and said he needed to make a phone call while Sam was waiting. Sam nodded knowing he could see exactly where his friend was. He was beginning to think his luggage had been lost when he finally saw his suitcase emerge onto the carousel - the last piece from their flight. As it came closer and he got a good look at it, he had to hold back a sigh of annoyance when he noticed the handle of it barely hanging on. "This just isn't my day," he complained as he took it off the carousel and put it down next to Al's.

Coming back after making the phone call, Al bent over to inspect the damage when Sam pointed it out. "They're not always careful and it happens sometimes. Let's go fill in a claim for damages," he suggested pragmatically.

"Oh no." Seeing the surprise on his friend's face when he said he didn't want to make a claim, Sam explained, "Al, I'm tired and after that flight, right now I feel like I have a hangover. I just want to get to the hotel, get in bed, and go to sleep. I don't want to spend any more time here than necessary going through bureaucratic airline red tape. It's not like that's going to fix it and make it better. Let's just get a luggage cart to put this stuff on and get going."

"Ok," Al agreed without pushing any further. In the year's he'd known Sam, he'd learned to recognize when his friend was pushed to his limits and a meltdown was imminent. Right now, he was seeing all those signs and knew it wouldn't take much to push his friend to the nuclear stage. "If we're lucky we'll get a cab right away." In his concern, he forgot to give Sam the news that Comet was fine. He'd called Rachel as he'd promised and had planned to tell his friend but with the luggage and the cab issue, it slipped his mind.

"At this point, I wouldn't bank on it." Discouragement was plain in Sam's voice and he knew it. He blew out a quick breath and wiped his hands over his face. "Sorry. I'm just tired and little overwound right now."

"Yeah. Once we get to the room we can just watch a little TV."

"You can if you want. I have the presentation tomorrow so I'm just going right to bed."

They walked out to the taxi station outside the airport. Sam's was right. The cab choices had been depleted. "Guess we need to wait a few minutes," Al pointed out going over to a bench. "I don't have to watch TV. Besides, I need to get up early too." They were sharing a room to keep costs down. "But you sure you don't want something from room service? You've hardly eaten today and what you had, you mostly lost."

Sam grimaced as he sat by his friend. "Don't remind me." He let his shoulders slump, his posture reflecting how he felt. "I probably should but I have no appetite right now. Losing lunch kinda does that to me."

"Yeah. Can't be very pleasant." Al sighed. "Maybe I'll go down to the hotel restaurant when we get there, though. "

"Maybe they have some soup or something on the room service menu. I guess I should eat something." Sam checked his watch to see what time it was forgetting that he hadn't pushed it ahead to the Eastern Time zone. "It's only 7:15. I guess that's too early for bed anyway."

"7:15? It can't be that early, Kid," Al said checking his own watch. He gave his friend a rueful grin. "9:15. We're not in New Mexico anymore."

"Argh. I thought I'd reset my watch." Sam pushed the timepiece ahead the needed two hours. "I guess 9:15 is still a little early."

"That's what I was thinking." As he spoke, a cab pulled up in the queue. "There's our ride," Al noted, standing and grabbing the cart.

Sam didn't say anything but followed Al to the taxi. Al told him to get in first while he made sure their luggage was stowed away. A couple of minutes later he climbed into the backseat beside Sam. "Not long now."

"Promise," Sam asked with a fleeting smile.

"Promise." The ride to the hotel was fairly quick. When they got there, they had a different problem. Due to it being later in the evening, there was only one person at the front desk. That wouldn't be so bad if one of the guests hadn't decided he had a problem. It meant having to wait until that person was finished.

"Great," Sam sighed sensing it was going to be a while. He pointed to one of the black padded benches across the lobby. "You mind if I go sit over there while you get us checked in?"

"Sure Sam. This shouldn't take long."

Sam moved over to the bench and sat with his body angled so he could look out the floor to ceiling windows that made up the wall opposite the check in desk. The window wall continued down past a bar and into the restaurant that all seemed to flow into the hotel lobby. Since the hotel was built on a pier that jutted into the Hudson River, he was offered a breathtaking view. It seemed to perk him up a little. Looking toward the left, he could see the skyline of lower Manhattan across the Hudson River. If he looked straight ahead, he could see the Statue of Liberty not very far away.

As he stood patiently waiting his turn, Al noticed the clerk's eyes shifting over to him on a regular basis, trying to convey her apologies. Finally, she told the man, "I'm sorry, but my manager will have to address your concern. She'll be here tomorrow morning at eight. I'd be happy to leave her a message."

"But..." the guest started.

Sensing that the man wasn't going to be happy with the answer the desk clerk had given him, Al stepped up to the counter a little closer and said, "She's not going to be able to help you tonight, bud. Best to come back when the manager's here."

The man at first appeared ready to start arguing again but at Al's raised eyebrow backed down. "Fine. I'll be back here at eight sharp." As he walked of he grumbled, "Hotels aren't like they used to be."

Now at the front of the counter, Al looked over to the frazzled desk clerk, "I hope you don't get many like him."

She gave him a weak smile. "Occupational hazard." She then asked, "Do you have a reservation Mr..."

"Calavicci," he supplied. "Yes, I do. I believe it's under the name Beckett, though."

She quickly found the information and took Al's credit card. "Two doubles," she mentioned. She took the envelope out of the rack that had the reservation information. "I'm upgrading you to a suite. If you hadn't come along who knows how long I would have had to deal with Mr. Grumpy." She hit a few keys and redid the cards. "Here you are. I hope you have a pleasant stay."

"Thanks." As soon as he had checked in, he walked over to where Sam was, staring out the window. "See anything interesting?"

"Anything?" Sam questioned with raised eyebrows. He gestured out the window. "Look at all that. There's a whole lot of interesting."

Looking out the window, Al could see not only the view Sam was talking about but the reflection of his friend as well. He was happy to see that the younger man looked a little less stressed than he did when they'd left the airport. "Yeah. It's a nice skyline." He held up the little packet holding their keycards. "I've got our room."

"What floor?" Sam asked as he turned around on the bench to face his friend.

Al looked at the little sleeve. "Sixth floor." He handed one of the key cards to Sam.

Accepting the key card held out to him, Sam got up from the bench then picked up his carryon. "Lead on."

The two made it to the elevator and soon they were at a corner room. When they walked in, it was obvious the orientation had been designed to take in the panorama of the New York Skyline with a corner window. "Wow," Al mentioned. "That's some view."

As he finished tipping the bellhop who'd brought up their luggage, Sam briefly glanced toward the windows. Once the man had left; he moved over to look out the window. "Sure is. It's so…bright."

"Yeah." Al turned on a light. "This is nice."

Sam also looked around the room when the light came on but he wasn't as impressed as Al seemed to be. "Um...you don't see a problem?"

"What?"

"What?" Sam again looked around the room. "That couch looks like it might be comfortable but, other than that, the only place I see to sleep is on the floor. You don't think that's a problem?"

"I think these are our bedrooms, Kid," Al pointed out nodding to the doors on either side of the main room.

"Bedrooms? There must be a mistake. If those are bedrooms, this is a suite. We're not supposed to be in a suite. I can't afford this." Sam looked at his friend accusingly. "What did you do? Did you change the reservation? I shouldn't have let you check us in. I should have done it. Now I'm going to have to go down there and fix this. Geez, what were you thinking?"

"Sam...calm down it's not what you thi..." Al tried to explain but at the moment, there really wasn't an opening.

"Oh, what? They had a surplus of suites so they just happened to give us one? Oh, I know. There's only suites in the hotel. Or maybe," he continued on a roll, "You just needed to make sure you had a separate room for any bimbos you happen to pick up.

"Oh, that's low, Sam. I came with you to help...not to bed any beauties...although if it were to happen, what's wrong with that? Still, I didn't plan..."

"Yes, you do. You always do. Even if you say you don't plan it, it happens. Well, not this time. Geez, I hope they can switch us to the room we're supposed to have."

Al stepped in front of Sam. "Would you just listen?" When Sam showed no signs of doing so, he grabbed him by both shoulders and gave a little shake to make sure he had the younger man's attention. "Would please just listen?"

"What?" Sam snapped. "What am I supposed to listen to?"

"You know when we walked in, Molly..." He saw that Sam didn't know the name, "...Molly, the desk clerk downstairs. Anyways, Molly had to deal with that putz that was there when we walked in. When she told him to talk to her manager, he was going to continue to give her a hard time. I just made it clear that he really should just listen to her and take it up with her manager in the morning. I guess Molly felt grateful and gave us the suite. It doesn't cost us anymore. It's a thank you." As he explained, Sam's head dropped in realization that he'd made a mistake. Al leaned over just a little so he could catch his eye. "You didn't want me to be ungracious and not accept it?"

Sam listened to Al's explanation and realized he'd be jumping to conclusions. "You mean you didn't ask for…you didn't…" He slumped down on the sofa by the window and blew out a breath. "I'm sorry. I guess I jumped to conclusions."

"Yeah...you practically leapt to conclusions. I know it's been a hard day but do you really think I'd be that much of a nozzle to my best friend? Sheesh, Sam."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. I just…" Sam leaned over, covering his face with his hands. "I'm stressed out, tired, and I'm still not feeling great. I know that's no excuse and I shouldn't have accused you." He dropped his hands to his lap and leaned back. "I'm sorry."

Al nodded slightly, accepting Sam's apology. "It's ok, Sam. I know things haven't been easy the last few days."

"Yeah. It still doesn't mean I should take it out on my best friend."

"No, it doesn't. I know if you were yourself, you wouldn't be. Like you said, you're tired, you're stressed, and I wouldn't doubt you're hungry considering. I think, under the circumstances...we order some room service and we get to bed. Tomorrow's going to be here sooner than either of us wants."

"I guess that's a good idea. You want to order something and I'll go get unpacked"

"Ok. Maybe something on the lighter side. I don't want you tossing and turning tonight." He watched for a moment as his friend picked up his suitcase with the broken handle and took it into one of the bedrooms then picked up the folder that was left on the desk. "They have a Vegetable barley soup. Maybe that and a turkey sandwich?" he called to Sam who had taken the room to the right.

"Just the soup," Sam called back.

"Ok." Al agreed even if he did think Sam should eat more than the soup. He'd already seen the start of the nuclear meltdown he'd been trying to head off earlier and didn't want to do anything to further it. He made his own choice and then called the order in. "While we're waiting, I'm going to get my things unpacked too. The sooner I get my uniform hung up, the better," he called out to Sam.

"Ok," Sam called out as he continued to unpack. Ordinarily, he'd just live out of his suitcase if it were a short stay but since it was going to be almost a week, he thought it would easier if he unpacked into the dresser in the bedroom. He had to admit, it was convenient to have the two bedrooms that the suite afforded them. On more than one occasion, his friend had informed him of the "racket" he made at night when he started to snore. At least this way there'd be a wall between the two of them...and he wouldn't have to hear Al's snoring either.

Al took his garment bag into his room and unzipped it. As he took out the jacket, he examined it closely to assure it wouldn't need pressing. Hanging it up in the closet, he then took the silk shirts he'd packed for everyday use that he'd packed between the uniform and the suit he'd brought.

Afterwards, he turned to his suitcase and unpacked the rest of his other clothing. Once everything was in its place he walked out to the common area again. As he was ready to sit down and turn on the TV, there was a knock at the door. "I think the food's here, Kid," Al called out. Finding out he was right, he nodded to the table where the man with the tray took their food. After Al took care of the bill, the man left.

Sam came out of the bedroom. He'd taken the time to change after unpacking and was now wearing a pair of worn sweatpants and one of his of favorite Pacers t-shirts. "I think I might actually be hungry again," he said as he sat at the table.

"You want to share some of my sandwich?"

Sam pulled the bowl of soup closer. "Nah. This is fine. I don't really want to push it."

"Yeah. I don't blame you." Al lifted the lid. "Still...if you want some fries there are more than enough here for me." As he checked the sandwich, he asked, "So...you have your presentation ready?"

As Al lifted the lid, Sam got a whiff of the food and paled slightly. "Um...no thanks. The soup's really enough."

Al looked over to Sam. "This bothering you?" he queried holding up the sandwich.

"No," Sam responded with a quick shake of his head. "Just don't ask me to eat it." He crumbled some crackers in the soup. "The presentation's as ready as it's ever going to be. I just wish I didn't have to get up there and give it tomorrow." He put a spoonful of the soup in his mouth and swallowed. "You want to be me tomorrow?"

'They'd throw tomatoes at me," Al quipped. "You'll do fine, kid."

"Yeah. We know how public speaking's my real strength." Sam let out a little sigh. "You're going to come tomorrow, right? If I've got to get up there in front of everyone, at least it'll help to have a friendly face in the audience."

"Of course I'm going to be there. I'll even sit in the front row if you want me to. How could you even question that?"

"It's not like it's the most exciting thing you could be doing tomorrow."

Al put his sandwich down and looked into Sam's eyes. "Excitement isn't the only thing in life, Sam. As far as I'm concerned, friendship trumps that every time. I want to be there."

"Thanks, Al," Sam responded sincerely. "That really means a lot to me and you know I feel the same way."

"Then it's settled." Al continued with his late dinner. "Now, eat up. You've got a busy day ahead of you and you're going to need your sleep."

The two continued to eat their meal. When they were finished, Sam wanted to watch a little TV to unwind but halfway through the show, the younger man was gently snoring. Al shook him slightly. "Ok. To bed with you."

Feeling the shake and hearing Al's voice, Sam jerked awake. "Huh? I'm awake. I'm not…" the rest of what he said was garbled in a yawn.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell me another one. I'm not buying the 'I'm awake' bit. Time both of us to hit the

sack."

"I guess so." Sam got up from the couch and started toward the bedroom he was using. "Hey, you think I should call Rachel and make sure Comet's not tearing her house apart?"

"I called her from the airport and he was fine then but if it would make you feel better, go ahead. I'm sure everything's still ok though."

"You think I'm just worrying, don' you?"

"Yeah, I do. Trust me. I get that. I'm not exactly the poster child for not worrying but in this case, I do think Comet's fine. He's always been good with Rachel before."

"Ok. I won't call. I guess if he were destroying things, she would have called."

Al stretched and yawned. "What time should I ask for our wakeup call?"

"No wake up call. I hate those. There's an alarm clock so I'm just going to set that for six a.m. That should give me plenty of time."

"Ok. No wake up call." He yawned again. "Well, see you tomorrow. Pleasant dreams, kid."

"Same to you." Sam detoured from the bedroom over to the room door and made sure the security latch was on it. Sure that the room was secured for the night, he made his way to bed. Hopefully, the butterflies in his stomach wouldn't keep him awake.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sam groaned when the alarm went off. Normally, he didn't have a problem getting up but he hadn't slept well the night before. Add to that the jet lag he was feeling and it just wasn't a great morning. He stretched as he swung his feet over the side of the bed. Yawning once more, he finally got up. As he walked into the common room, his eyes dropped as he noted Al was already up and reading the USA Today with a cup of coffee. It wasn't often that his friend was up before he was.

"Coffee's over there," Al stated nodding to the small counter when he noticed his fiend in the room with him.

Sam made his way over to the indicated coffee and poured a cup. "What time did you get up?"

"Oh, about twenty minutes ago or so." Al looked over to Sam and noticed that his friend didn't seem quite as awake as he usually was in the morning and wondered if there were any lingering effects from the motion sickness. "You feeling ok?"

"Just ducky," the younger man answered as he slumped down on the other end of the couch from his friend. "Since when did you start getting up before six and why are you so awake? You're usually the one telling me I'm too chipper in the morning."

"I don't know," Al shrugged as he folded the paper and put it down beside him. I guess I just had a great night's sleep. Didn't you?"

"No. When I wasn't thinking about today there was this strange noise coming through the wall. It kinda sounded like a motor that kept choking."

Al's brows drew together as he tried to puzzle out what his friend could have been hearing. Their room wasn't located near the elevators nor was it near the small room with the ice machine and vending machines so it couldn't have been any of those causing the noise. "I wonder what that could have been. My room was quiet."

"You don't say?" Sam asked with more than a hint of sarcasm. "I think there's a name for the sound. If I'm not mistaken, it's called Albert Calavicci."

"What do you mean? You saying I was snoring?

"You got another name for it? And when you weren't doing that, you were singing or at least I think that's what that noise was. I could be wrong. Maybe there's a cat or something stuck in the walls that was making that sound."

Al's head tilted. "I did have a dream about singing to Ruthie."

"Caterwauling is more like it."

"Gee, thanks." Al sighed. "I'm sorry, Kid. I didn't know I was disturbing you."

Sam waved off the apology. "Don't worry. I don't think I'd have slept any better anyway. I do have new found sympathy for your ex-wives, though."

"None of them complained," Al stated before adding, "Well, Ruthie told me I could be annoying."

"Annoying? Yeah. I'd have to say annoying's a good word." Sam reached over to put the coffee mug down on the end table. "I'm going to shower. Maybe that'll wake me up. You want to go downstairs for breakfast or just get room service again?"

"Up to you. I could go with either."

"Let's just get room service, then. I don't think I really want much this morning anyway."

"Sure." Al handed Sam the in-room menu. "What do you want? I'll call it in."

Sam didn't take the menu when it was handed to him. "Some raisin bran and grapefruit'll be fine and maybe some toast and tea."

"You sure, Kid? You really didn't have that much to eat yesterday. Maybe something a little more substantial might be a better idea. You know, so you don't get distracted by hunger when you're giving your presentation."

"No thanks," Sam said with a quick shake of his head. Cereal and toast will be a-ok."

"Ok," Al agreed not wanting to push the food idea anymore. Likely, Sam had a case of the nerves right now and forcing too much food on him in that state would not be a good idea. If he stayed true to form, once the presentation was out of the way he'd be ravenous and eating everything in sight. "I'll call it in for delivery. It'll probably be here by the time you're done in the shower."

"That should work." Sam went into his bedroom to get what he'd need to take with him into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door just as Sam was coming out of the bathroom. "Good timing, Kid," Al commented as he moved to open the door and let room service in.

Once the server was taken care of and their breakfast laid out on the table, the two men sat down to eat. Sam looked a bit incredulously at the breakfast Al had picked. "Are you really going to eat all that?"

Al looked over the food in front of him - eggs over easy, bacon, home fries, pancakes and a side of toast. "Yeah. What's wrong with it?"

"Wrong?" Sam asked as he poured milk over his cereal. "Do you know how many milligrams of cholesterol there is in all that?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"No," Al deadpanned. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Probably about a zillion. That's how many."

Al did his best to keep amusement from his face but wasn't completely successful. "A zillion, huh? Can you tell me how many zeroes are in a zillion, Dr. Beckett?"

"Oh, ha ha. Aren't you the funny man? So zillion really isn't a number but you know what I'm getting at."

Al let out a small sigh, his humor drifting away. "I know and I was trying really hard to ignore it. My cholesterol was down the last time I had a physical. This isn't going to kill me."

"No. That meal might not but you keep eating that way and the effects could be lethal. And the only reason your cholesterol's been down is because you've been eating properly."

"And I will again when I get home. Sheesh, can't a guy enjoy himself occasionally?"

"Yeah I just don't want the occasions to end," Sam said in a very quick, low voice.

Al was about to push once more when he saw Sam's body language change in parallel with his cryptic words. Instead he blinked, shifting gears, "What is it, Sam? This is just one breakfast."

"Nothing," Sam answered quickly. "I just….enjoy your breakfast. I'm just nervous about today." He started to stir his bowl of cereal. "You know how I can get when I'm nervous about something."

Al didn't completely buy the answer, sure that his friend was holding something back. He'd seen him do this before and knew it wasn't the time to push. With the presentation coming up, Sam didn't need the upset that an intense discussion would cause. "Yeah. I know."

"You know, if you don't want to come today, that's ok. I know it's going to be kind of boring and there's probably stuff you'd rather do instead."

"Miss it? Not a chance. Highbrow, yes...boring, never. Besides, I'll enjoy seeing the reactions of the audience when you blow them away."

"I wouldn't count on that happening," Sam said uncomfortably. "I'm not exactly known for my public speaking skills."

"You keep saying that but you're not as bad as you think you are, Kid. I've heard you speak before, remember? You'll be fine."

"I just want to get it done and behind me and then I just have to think about Thursday."

Al decided that giving Sam something to look forward to might improve his mood. "After the reception today, you want to go by the Metropolitan Museum? Check out the Egyptian section?"

"Maybe tomorrow or Wednesday. After all that today, I'd rather just do something where I can be outside in fresh air."

"Ok, Central Park then?"

"That sounds good. Maybe we can go to Rockefeller Center tonight and see the tree and stuff."

"Yeah, sounds good." Al could see the tightness lessen in Sam's shoulder's as he considered the other plans after the activities he was dreading. He took a chance asking a question hoping it wouldn't key his friend up more. "I was wondering. Why did you agree to be to this talk? You're obviously not comfortable with it."

Sam finished the cereal in his bowl using the time it took to frame his answer. "I guess, when I was asked two months ago, it didn't seem real. It was so far off, you know, more abstract than anything."

Al nodded as Sam spoke. "And now it's here and it's real."

"Here and very real," Sam echoed. "I just hope it gets over fast."

"You're gonna do great, Kid," Al assured as he'd been doing. "Unless..."

"Unless what?" Sam asked, his voice rising in anxiety.

"Calm down. I was just gonna say unless you don't get dressed and you get there late. We both better get a move on."

"Oh," Sam responded. He looked down at himself. Although he had on his suit pants, he was only wearing his undershirt at the moment. He thought he'd be less likely to spill any of his breakfast on his shirt if he just didn't have it on. "Yeah, I guess so." He swallowed the last of his tea and got up from the table. "I'll be ready when you are."

Al watched his friend rush off to his room and shook his head slightly at the speed he'd left. There was no doubt Sam was definitely keyed up this morning.

Finishing his breakfast, Al went into his room to get dressed as well since he'd already showered. One of the reasons he'd gotten up early, not that he was going to tell Sam, was so he could use the bathroom before Hurricane Sam hit it. Although his friend had gotten better at his housekeeping skills, he knew that when he was feeling stressed, Sam tended not to be the tidiest person on the planet. He didn't envy whoever from housekeeping would be coming by later.

The two men emerged from their respective bedrooms ten minutes later dressed for the day. When Al saw Sam, he tried to hold back a little sigh of annoyance. Not that he was expecting there to be an abundance of eligible ladies at the seminar but he knew that Dr. Beckett would be the one turning heads today and not him…and Sam wouldn't even know it was happening. And that, Al had noticed, would just garner his friend even more attention. For reasons he'd yet to figure out, it seemed that Sam's seeming ambivalence about his effect on the fairer sex just made him all that more attractive.

During the taxi ride to the auditorium, Sam tried to concentrate on his presentation, but kept noticing things out the window and pointing them out to Al. The older man chuckled at the fact that as traveled and learned as his friend could be captivated like a child at times by the world around him. When the taxi stopped, Sam looked genuinely confused. "We're here, Kid. Showtime."

Pulling in a deep breath, Sam let it out slowly. "I can do this," he said confidently.

"Of course you can...and you will. Hell, it can't be any more intimidating than your acceptance speech at the Nobel's"

"There wasn't a question and answer period after that."

"True...but you don't have a problem answering questions when you know what you're talking about and if there's one thing I know...it's that you know this topic better than anyone else alive does. It's going to be a piece of cake."

"I hope so." Once the cab was paid, the two men went into the building. "You want to watch from backstage or out front?"

"Where do you want me?" Al asked. He would provide whatever support the Kid needed.

"It's up to you," Sam responded. "Whichever, just let me know."

Al gave it a moment's thought. How about I sit out front? I know that everyone's going to enjoy the lecture, but if you need any assurance, I'll be a glance away."

"Ok. Out front then. I think if you just tell them you're with me, they should let you in without a problem."

"You want me to go backstage with you to start or will you be ok?"

"Um..." At first, Sam was going to tell Al to go to his seat in the main auditorium but quickly changed his mind. "You can come back with me for now."

"Sure." The two men went to the entrance Sam had been told to use. They let the coordinator know that a seat should be reserved for Al.

During the wait, Al watched as his friend alternatively paced, reviewed his materials, and basically did his best to calm his nerves. Al tried to keep up a conversation to take the physicist's mind off the upcoming presentation but Sam's responses showed how nervous he was. When they were given the five-minute notice, the older man got up to take his seat. "You're going to do fine, Kid."

"Thanks for staying with me."

"Always," Al reached to straighten his friend's tie. "See you out there," he finished with a pat to his shoulder. Then he left.

When Sam entered the stage, he had a 'deer in the headlights' look that continued until he found Al's face. With a grateful smile, he then started into the lecture that, by the feel of the crowd was well received. That assessment was verified when the question and answer segment started. However, after ten minutes, a man stood to take the microphone provided for questions. As with the other questioners, the lights prevented Sam from being able to make out the face but as soon as he heard the voice, he knew to whom the question belonged - Dr. Sebastian LoNigro. His face whitened slightly as he realized his mouth had suddenly gone dry. After taking a sip from the water that had been provided, he spoke, "Would you please repeat the question?" He listened carefully to what was being asked, but the stress was making it difficult to put together a response. He worked through the answer as best he could but his confidence was shaken and it didn't come out as coherent as he hoped. It was only after seeking Al's face again that a bit of that confidence returned. He got through the rest of the questions relatively well but when the lecture coordinator indicated they were at the point of a final question, the relief he felt was palpable. He finished answering that question before receiving an enthusiastic applause as he left the stage.

Al was by his side a few minutes later, taking in the wrung-out aspect of his friend's body language. His concern was evident in his voice as he asked, "You ok, Sam? What happened when that guy asked the question about the modification of Hamiltonian mechanics?"

"I didn't know he was going to be here."

"You know him? Who is he?"

Before Sam could answer, a voice called out Sam's name. Sam spun quickly in the direction of the voice. "Professor LoNigro," he stammered.

"Samuel. It's good to see you again," the man said moving closer.

"Um...yeah," Sam agreed. "Good to see you."

"I've sent you several letters since you left MIT. Have you received them?"

Al stood back watching but knowing this was Sam's situation to deal with. He was ready, however to provide whatever support his friend needed in dealing with the man that had sent him into a tailspin a few years before.

"Letters? I...I..." Sam looked over to Al for help. As much as he'd thought in the last six years of how good it would feel to tell LoNigro what he'd overheard...to tell the man off...now that he was faced with the opportunity, he couldn't bring himself to do it. The man had been his mentor for so many years. Now, even knowing what he'd been doing, or maybe because of it, Sam found himself at a loss for words.

"Yes, my boy. You left so suddenly. I wondered why. We were only halfway through your post-doc project."

"I had a job offer," Sam explained. He was going to leave it at that but knew this would likely be the only chance he'd have to face the man he'd looked up to who'd, ultimately, let him down. "I heard what you said that day. About how you'd use me…that you were going to take credit for my work."

LoNigro's face turned first to a confused frown but then his eyes opened as if he'd just realized what Sam was talking about. "What? Oh, Samuel, I wish you'd come to me. You may have overheard that but you didn't know what was really going on. You remember Thomas Wickson?" Not giving time for Sam to answer, he continued. "Of course you do. Thomas was fishing for information and I was playing along. I would never have tried to take credit for your work. Surely you knew that?" the man asked with what appeared to be sincerity.

Again, Sam looked over to Al. Was it possible that he'd misunderstood what had happened that day and acted impulsively instead of seeking an explanation? "I don't know."

Al blinked as Sam looked to him. From everything Sam had told him, this wasn't a man to be trusted. Still, his story was plausible. "You're saying that you weren't going to use Sam?" Al asked.

"You are?" Dr. LoNigro asked.

"Albert Calavicci. I'm a friend of Sam's."

"Of course." He put his hand out. "Any friend of Sam's is a friend of mine, Mr. Calavicci. To answer your question, no. I would never use Samuel. We were colleagues."

"Al's working with me on the project I'm trying to pursue," Sam added. He still wasn't sure what to believe.

Al took the outstretched hand. "Good." He nodded at what Sam said. "I met Sam at Starbright. I'd sent the job offer that he took when he left MIT."

"So you're the one I have to blame for pulling Samuel away from his stellar academic career. I dare say, by this time, you'd surely have added a few more doctorates to you CV," the professor said turning back to Sam.

"Maybe," Sam agreed. "If I'd done that, though, I wouldn't have the chance I have right now to live out my dream."

"Ah. So now you're ready to see if those equations you showed me represent a real phenomenon?"

"If I can secure funding," Sam responded although somewhat guardedly, "that's what I'm planning."

"Well, I might be able to help you with that. You know I'd always planned to help you when you were ready."

Once more, Sam shot a look at his friend. He knew LoNigro had access to people he didn't but he still wasn't sure if he should trust the man. He also didn't want Al to feel as if he were slighting him.

"We're still working on the list of who to bring onto the project," Al said, non-committedly.

"Thank you for the offer, though," Sam chimed in.

"Oh, I understand that, but I can still help you. Surely, now that that misunderstanding has been sorted out things can be like they were." He smiled. "You know how I've always believed in your work."

Sam had to admit that was true. When everyone else was telling him he was crazy, Professor LoNigro was the only who believed in what he wanted to do. The only one, that was, until he'd shared his ideas and dreams with Al. "Are you going to the reception?" he asked. "Maybe we can talk about things in a cab to the hotel. You don't mind, Al, do you?"

Before Al could answer, the lecture coordinator walked up. "Sir, you'll need to get going. The reception will be starting in twenty-five minutes. It wouldn't do for the guest of honor to be late."

"Sorry," Sam quickly apologized. "I didn't realize I was holding anything up."

Dr. LoNigro put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I think talking on the way to reception is an excellent idea. It will give me an opportunity to get to know Mr. Calavicci as well. After all, should you choose to bring me on your project, I'd be working with him as well." He started walking towards the exit, still with his hand on Sam's shoulder, almost leading him as he talked. "I have missed our discussions, Samuel. They were always a highlight of the day whenever we had a chance to talk. Today's lecture brought back that feeling again."

Al fell in step behind the two men. He wasn't sure what it was, but something didn't seem to be right. The man was saying too many of the right words in his opinion. He let out a small sigh. This was certainly going to be an interesting cab ride.

Sam stood on the sidewalk waiting with Professor LoNigro while Al hailed the cab. As the two men talked, Sam noticed the stream of people coming out of the nearby subway stop. One younger man caught his eye as he shoved past the others and ran off down the street with something clutched in his hand. Almost immediately, Sam heard the screams from a woman that someone had stolen her purse. Without giving much thought, Sam shoved his briefcase and overcoat into Professor LoNigro's arms. He didn't bother to check whether the man had a hold of his belongings before taking off after the purse-snatcher.

When he got within a few steps of the would-be purse-snatcher, he threw himself at him in a tackle. Both men went down in a heap of twisted limbs. As they untangled themselves and got to their feet, Sam didn't see the thief reach under his coat for something. When the man swung at him, he barely caught of glint of metal and tried to back out of the way. Unfortunately, he wasn't completely successful as he felt the knife the man wielded bite into his left deltoid. Surprise and pain made him back away and drop to the sidewalk. When he did, the thief ran.

The confrontation left Sam sitting dazed on the sidewalk. He didn't see the thief stopped by two other men nor the approach of his friends. He pulled back when Al's face was suddenly in his field of vision.

"Geez, you ok, Kid?" the older man asked in concern. He could see blood leaking around Sam's fingers as he clutched his left shoulder with his right hand.

"I'm ok," Sam reassured. Slowly, he got up from the sidewalk. "I'm ok," he said again shakily. He wasn't on his feet long before his vision started to gray out and there was a roaring sound in his ears. His legs began to feel like jelly and he was soon crumpling to the ground again. This time, Al's hold on him softened the landing.

"The hell you're ok," Al growled once Sam was on the sidewalk again. He pulled his friend's hand away so he could get a better look at the wound. When he did, blood welled up. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it to the knife wound. "Hang tight and we're gonna get you some help, Kid."

Sam felt something heavy around his shoulders and looked up to see Professor LoNigro draping the overcoat he'd been carrying around him. "Help should be here shortly, Samuel," the man said. There wasn't quite the same note of concern in his voice that Sam had heard in Al's.

He wasn't given time to protest that he didn't need any help when the sound of sirens filled the air. Shortly after, a police officer was there pushing back the crowd that had gathered around Sam and two EMT's were kneeling down next to him. "I'm ok," he repeated again when one of the EMT's reached for him. The daze he'd been in was wearing off.

"He's not ok," Al countered. "He passed out."

"I did not," Sam contested. When he saw his friend ready to contradict him, he added, "I just blacked out for a second, that's all but I'm ok."

"Sam...don't let your MD get in the way of accepting help," Al cautioned. He knew the kid didn't deal well when he needed the medical community. "You have no idea how dirty whatever he wounded you with was much less the damage it caused. Let them help you."

Dr. LoNigro looked to Sam, "But if you believe you're not that badly hurt..."

Al shook his head as he turned to LoNigro. "I know you want to talk to Sam and you will but right now he needs to be checked out, even if there's nothing wrong."

Dr. LoNigro nodded. "You're right, of course. All I'm saying is Samuel should decide what he should do."

"It was a knife, I think." Sam looked around at the people gathered around him. "I guess you're right," he sighed as Al's focus turned back to him.

Seeing his patient was going to allow himself to be treated, one of the EMT's helped Sam out of his suit coat then tore the sleeve of his shirt so he could see the wound better. He shrugged slightly at the scowl on Sam's face when he tore the shirt then wrapped a bandage around the laceration. "You said he lost consciousness," he asked directing the question at Al.

"Yes. He tried to get up but that apparently wasn't the best choice at the moment."

"It was just the adrenaline rush wearing off," Sam tried to explain. "I didn't really lose consciousness."

The EMT nodded but asked, "Did you hit your head at all?"

"No," Sam answered with another sigh. It didn't look like it mattered what he said.

The group of people that had crowded around was still there. Even in a city like New York where people tended to walk by there was morbid curiosity. Al was more concerned, though, by the man who was taking pictures. He moved towards him. "Hey, this isn't some kind of tourist show. My friend's been hurt. Back off." The man dropped the camera to his side with a shrug.

Sam didn't catch the would-be photographer. Instead, he watched as the EMT finished wrapping his arm. "Thanks," he said once the man was done. He started to get up again but the man held him in place.

"You're really going to need some stiches in that and if you're not up to date on your Tetanus shots, you'll need a booster."

"Ok," Sam agreed and tried to get up but was again held down. "I can take a cab to the hospital," he said in irritation.

"Your friend said you lost consciousness." Seeing the look on Sam's face, the EMT amended, "almost lost consciousness. Let us transport you. You'll get there faster."

"Maybe you should let them take you, Kid. We'll follow in a cab," Al replied.

"You should, of course, address this quickly. Perhaps I should go onto the reception and let them know what happened," Dr. LoNigro corrected.

"Fine," Sam agreed though not happily. He didn't, however, feel like prolonging an argument on a city sidewalk. "I don't need a gurney, though," he added on to stave off that suggestion. He turned to LoNigro. "Let them know I'll try to make it."

"Of course, Samuel." LoNigro walked with Sam until they reached the ambulance, wishing Sam the best before walking away.

Al stayed with Sam until he knew he was settled. He checked with the EMT to confirm which hospital Sam was being transported to before saying, "I'll see you at the hospital. Try not to give them too hard a time, ok?"

"What am I going to do?" Before giving a chance for Al to answer, Sam pointed at the sidewalk behind his friend. "Don't forget to grab my stuff."

"I'm on it. You just concentrate on getting this behind you, capice?"

Sam nodded and after he did, the doors on the back of the ambulance were closed.

Al let out a sigh as the vehicle left the area. He couldn't help but think of the number of times his friend had needed medical care since he'd met him. Deciding that dwelling on that thought wasn't helpful at the moment, he turned back to pick up Sam's clothing. Noting that the briefcase wasn't with the coats, he noticed that Dr. LoNigro was still holding it. "I'm going to need to take that with me," he told the man.

"Excuse me?" LoNigro asked. Seeing that Al was indicating the briefcase, he gave a small smile as he handed it over. "Oh yes. Of course. I didn't even realize I was still holding it. Quite a shock, all this."

Al took the briefcase. "So I take it Sam didn't have a lot of close brushes while he was at MIT?"

"Well...not like this. I just don't understand what would possess him to run after that man."

"What? Sam didn't rush in where angels dare to tread in his younger days?" Al said it with a smile, but the question was valid. He really didn't know much about Sam before he'd met him. Thelma had told him some things from Sam's childhood but, other than a few bits here and there that Sam had mentioned, he didn't know a lot about what he was like in school.

LoNigro's lips pursed slightly as he let out a frustrated breath. "Unfortunately, that appears to be a character flaw. Samuel always took too much of an interest in the problems of others. When he was a TA..." He noticed Al's confusion, "...Teaching Assistant...most graduate students do that for funding and experience...Sam came to me more than a few times to plead the case of one student or another. I told him his good heart would get him in trouble someday. That or his impulsiveness. Looks like I was right on both counts."

"Sam does what he does because it's the right thing to do. I admire him for that commitment."

"Perhaps it's admirable but what does it gain him? He almost got himself killed today and for what? A woman's purse?" The professor shook his head once more. "I've always felt Samuel could go places in this world. He's certainly more than bright enough. He just needs someone to mold him and guide him from taking on endeavors that could hurt his future." LoNigro pulled in a deep breath and, before Al could respond to what he said, added, "Well, let him know I'll inform the reception what happened to the good doctor. I hope we'll see you both there."

"Sure," Al responded warily. "I'll let him know." At that point, both men took the taxi's that had pulled up to the curb.

During the ride to the hospital, Al considered the man that had been Sam's mentor but he still had a weird feeling about the guy. LoNigro's explanation about what Sam had overheard could be true. Could it be that Sam's impulsiveness had played a bigger role in this situation? He couldn't help but think back to the way Sam had tried to deal with what he'd thought had been a betrayal by Professor LoNigro. Even impulsive as he was, Sam usually wasn't totally off base. He did seem to have good reasons even if he couldn't verbalize them all the time. That, added to what LoNigro had just said was adding up to him that the professor was not a man either he or Sam should put trust in. When he arrived at the hospital, he put the musing aside and went in to see how Sam was.

He was surprised when he heard Sam call him over as he walked to the information station. His friend was sitting in a chair in the waiting room. "Hey, Kid. What 'cha doing out here?"

"Triage," Sam explained. "It's busy and I'm not hurt bad - like I said - so I have to wait my turn."

"Oh. Well, we'll just have to wait then." Al sat down beside him. "They give you any idea of how long it might be?"

"No." Sam gestured to others who were also waiting. "I've got a feeling this is going to be a while." He looked down at the bandage on his arm. "It's really not that bad."

"It might not be but you heard the EMT. You need stiches and a tetanus shot."

"He's not a doctor, you know."

"No, but he deals with things like this on a regular basis so I imagine he knows. As a doctor, you think he's wrong?"

"No," Sam answered grudgingly. The last place he wanted to be was in a crowded ER waiting room but he knew the laceration needed attention. He also couldn't remember the last time he'd had a tetanus booster so that probably meant he was due for one.

"Ok then." After a few minutes Al asked, "You want some coffee or something? I'm sure I can find a vending machine."

At the offer, Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins and handed it to his friend. "Can you see if you can get a candy bar or something? I guess I'm going to miss lunch at the reception."

"Yeah. I guess you're right. Be right back." Al walked off to see if he could find some snacks.

Sam watched as his friend walked away. As he rounded a corner out of sight, he leaned his head against the wall behind him with a small shake wondering how he managed to get into predicaments like the one he was in now. It was a question he often asked himself and still didn't have a satisfactory answer.

Pushing that thought aside, his mind circled back to Professor LoNigro. All these years he'd been sure his mentor had been out to use him for his own good but now…it seemed like he may have been wrong. Could he really have misinterpreted things that far off base? LoNigro certainly sounded sincere enough and was even willing to help with funding for PQL sight unseen. When Al came back, he'd have to ask his opinion.

It was a good fifteen minutes before Al returned although he had more than a candy bar in his hand. Rather, it was a makeshift tray holding drinks and food. "A nurse showed me where the sandwich machine was. I got two. One's tuna and one's ham and cheese. Oh, and I got you a snickers and Diet Coke too. Coffee for me."

"I'll take the ham and cheese." Once he'd been handed the sandwich, Sam unwrapped it and took a bite out of it. "I could be having stuffed chicken breast, you know," he said around the mouthful of sandwich.

"Yeah...but if you don't take care of the wound, you could get an infection too. You don't want that."

"I get it." Sam couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice. "How many times are you going to remind me of that? I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah. You are." Al paused. "You usually aren't all that keen about receptions. I'd think you'd be grateful to get out of this one."

"I'm usually not but there was this guy that was supposed to be there I was hoping to meet. I thought he'd be a good fit once we get the funding. Besides, I wanted a chance to talk with Professor LoNigro some more." Sam took another bite of the sandwich. Once he'd swallowed, he asked, without looking at Al, "What'd you think?"

"About LoNigro?" Getting a nod from Sam, Al sucked his lip slightly. "I don't know, Sam. I'm not sure he'd be a good fit at the project."

"Why? I developed a lot of the groundwork for it with his help when I was still in school."

"Oh, I'm sure he's tops in the field. You don't get tenure at MIT if you're not. It's just..." He paused unsure of how much to tell his friend about the conversation with LoNigro. He wanted to warn him off but, if he did that, wouldn't he be doing exactly what LoNigro had said. "...there's something about him."

"Maybe you're just imagining it." A thought occurred to Sam and his eyes narrowed as he looked at his friend. "That have anything to do with insisting I come here. You're not trying to keep me away from him, are you?"

Al looked over at Sam with a questioning look. "You think I'd do that? I'm just worried about what that guy did to you. Like I said before, who knows how dirty that knife was and you agreed. You need stitches."

"I know," Sam held up a placating hand. "I shouldn't have said that. I guess I'm just a little grumpy. My arm hurts, this isn't the most comfortable seat, and this sandwich is too salty. I shouldn't take it all out on you, though."

"It's ok," Al stated. "Let me check on their progress. Maybe if we can speed things up, we can still make it to the reception. I think lunch is a bust though. Dinner will be my treat." He got up to check with the nurse. A few minutes later, after an animated conversation, Al came back to where they were sitting. "She said it'll probably be another thirty minutes at least. She said that you're in the queue though."

"Oh boy. I'm in the queue. That's really comforting." Sam again looked down at his arm. "You know, maybe if you tell her I'm starting to bleed through the bandage that might move things along."

"I tried that. She said the rooms are filled with people that need more immediate care."

"I'm not kidding, Al." Sam directed the other man's attention to the bandage that was now dotted with red. "It's bleeding through."

Al looked down at the bandage, his eyes becoming wide. "That's not good, Sam." He got up again, this time pulling Sam up with him by his good arm. Going back to the nurses' station, he stated firmly, "You didn't believe me but look. It's really bleeding through the bandage. Don't you think it should be taken care of?"

The nurse looked rather bored at first but did look closer at Sam's arm. She nodded, "I can move you back there but there will still be a wait. You'll be the first seen as soon as a doctor's free."

"I'm going with him," Al stated rather than asked.

"If it's still going to be a wait, I'd like a little company," Sam added on before the nurse could protest. Reluctantly, she agreed to allow Al to accompany him then called for another nurse to take Sam back to a treatment room.

"Looks more like a closet," Al commented as the three entered the room. He saw a rolling stool in one of the back corners and sat there out of the way. He watched as the nurse layered more gauze on Sam's arm and wrapped it in place then took a set of vitals on him.

Reaching for a call bell on the wall, the nurse pulled it over so Sam, who was now lying propped up on the exam table, could reach it. "If you need anything, just ring and someone will be right back," she told him with a warm smile. "Hopefully it won't be too much longer until a doctor's available."

Al waited until he nurse had left the room before saying anything. "Hmmph. She couldn't even change the bandage...just piled more gauze on top of it. I coulda done that."

"That's standard procedure," Sam pointed out. "If she took off the bandage, she could have made the bleeding worse."

"If you say so, Kid." Al got up and walked around the small space. "You need anything."

"A cab to the hotel the reception's at?" Sam asked hopefully before adding on, "I know. I need this looked at by someone who's actually a practicing physician."

"Well. Maybe it won't be too much longer now."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

It was closer to an hour than a half hour before a doctor finally came into the treatment room. The first thing he did was ask Al to leave to room. It was only when Sam nodded slightly to indicate that he should go to the waiting room, that he finally got up. "I'll see you in a bit, Kid."

When Al got to the waiting room, he saw that it had emptied out somewhat in the last hour. It was probably why there was finally a doctor who could see Sam.

He got another cup of coffee from the vending machine and settled on one of the hard plastic chairs to wait for his friend. He flipped through an outdated magazine while he waited.

It was another forty-five minutes before Sam came from the treatment room. His ripped and bloodied white shirt had been replaced by turquoise colored scrub top. A fresh white bandage was wrapped around his left arm.

"So?" Al asked when he saw his friend. "How'd things go?"

"Twenty-one stitches and a tetanus shot. That's how it went."

Al grimaced when he heard how many stitches it had taken to close the wound. "Is it hurting? Did he give you anything for pain?"

"He gave me a prescription for pain if I need it but right now the local still hasn't worn off so it's not really bothering me." Sam checked his watch. "I guess I definitely missed getting to the reception and lunch."

"Yeah. It was only scheduled for two hours and that's long past." He nodded to the scrub top, "I guess the shirt was ruined. We can go by Macy's for another one tomorrow if you'd like."

"I guess." Sam picked up his suit coat that was on the chair by Al and sighed when he saw the torn and blood-stained sleeve. "I don't think even Mom could fix this."

"Doesn't sound like it provided you much protection what with twenty-one stiches."

"It's wool, not Teflon." Sam looked at the article of clothing in irritation. "Now what am I supposed to do about Thursday. I can't even wear these again," he said gesturing to his suit pants. "I ripped them when I tackled that guy. I can't exactly walk in wearing jeans and a sweater."

"It's going to be ok, Sam," Al stated. It was clear he was attempting to steer Sam's thoughts away from the suit. "Can we leave now? I bet you're hungry. Italian sound good? I know of a few places around here."

Normally, Sam would be ravenous by now. However, by his answer it appeared that the events of the day had put a damper on his appetite. "It's not even 3:00 yet, Al. Can't we wait a while for dinner? Besides, I'd like to go back to the hotel and change. I know you're always telling me I'm not fashionable enough but even I know this isn't going to work."

"Um yeah. Right. Hotel it is." Al again asked, "So we're ok to leave? No other paperwork?" He put on his overcoat and helped Sam into his.

"It's all right here," Sam said as he pulled some folded papers out of his pants pocket. He started to walk to the exit. "If you don't mind, can we just take a cab all the way to the hotel and skip the PATH? I don't think I feel like the subway right now."

"No problem, Kid. I was about to suggest the same thing." When they left the hospital, it was only minutes before they flagged a cab. "That's one thing about New York. Always a cab around when you need it."

"There is that." Sam rubbed his hands up and down his arms. Even with his overcoat on, it was chilly outside. "Is it me or has the temperature dropped since this morning?"

"It's dropped. A lot. I'm sure the cab will be warm," Al finished as the mustard yellow vehicle pulled up. "After you."

Once both men were in the cab, Sam told the driver where they were going and they were soon on their way. They drove along the Hudson River for most of the trip. When they drove past the Intrepid, Sam's eyes widened as he hadn't expected to see an aircraft carrier in the middle of New York.

They had mostly traveled in companionable silence during the cab ride. When Al heard the sharp intake of breath by Sam, he looked up and out at what the kid was looking at. "Beautiful ship, isn't she," he commented.

"Sure is," Sam agreed. He pointed to the sign indicating the carrier was part of a museum. "Maybe we can come back and see it better tomorrow or Wednesday."

"That sounds like good idea. You know, the thought of doing that reminds me a little of that first trip we took when we spent some time at Norfolk Naval station. You got some great photos on that visit."

"That was fun," Sam agreed before groaning slightly and hitting his forehead. "Film. I forgot to pack film for my camera." He shrugged off the momentary disappointment. "Well, it's not like I can't find a place to buy it here. They probably have some in the gift store at the hotel."

"It'll cost you more there," Al warned. "We can probably find somewhere to stop along the way."

"At most, it's only going to be a couple of dollars more. I don't think that's going to break the bank," Sam said with a small smile. The smile faded when he picked up his suit coat from the seat beside him. "This, on the other hand..." He set the coat down with a small sigh. "Maybe I can find something on sale in Macy's that doesn't need to be altered."

"That's not going to be necessary."

Sam nodded to the suit coat. "I told you that can't be fixed. What do you think I should do? Go in to the meeting wearing a damaged suit? I wouldn't expect that from you."

"What I meant is that you have another suit to wear. A shirt will be all you need...and some alterations."

Sam's face turned to Al's, his visage mirroring the confused suspicion in his voice, "What? I told you to pack the one suit."

"And I did...in your luggage. I pulled one of your other suits out and put it with mine."

"You packed an extra suit even though I told you explicitly not to?" Sam was showing signs of the beginning of a nuclear meltdown.

Al went into damage control mode. "I just thought it would be prudent. I certainly didn't expect what happened to your suit to happen but it's always good to be prepared. I figured if you never needed it, you'd never know I brought it. Now, though, it's good that I did. The alterations will cost a lot less than buying a nice suit during the Christmas season, even one on sale, and I know you want this trip to be as frugal as possible."

"I'd never know?" Sam questioned in a low voice. "You seem to forget that I'm not a child. I don't need someone making decisions for me as if I'm not capable of doing it on my own. I don't need someone bringing along back up plans just in case I get myself in trouble." He was going to say more when he remembered they were in a cab and the driver would make a great audience. When Al started to respond he held up a hand to stop him. "This isn't over, not by a long shot, but it can wait 'til we get to the hotel." He looked meaningfully in the direction of the driver communicating that he didn't wish to continue in the man's presence.

"Fine," Al agreed. There was no point in trying to have any discussion right now with or without the presence of the cab driver. As they entered the Holland Tunnel, he made a guess that the waters they were passing under probably weren't half as icy as the demeanor his friend now had.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up at the hotel. Sam quickly reached into his pocket for his wallet, handing the cab driver the fare and a generous tip. When he did, Al knew better than to even think about offering to pay for the cab ride. Doing so would have been the equivalent of tossing a lit match into a fireworks factory...only more explosive.

Silently, he followed his friend into the hotel and up the escalator to the lobby floor. He was surprised when Sam went left instead of going to the elevators until he remembered the younger man had said he'd buy film in the hotel gift store. He followed along in silence as Sam went in and completed his transaction then went to the elevators. The silence persisted until they reached their room. Once they had and the door was firmly closed, Sam rounded on him.

"What makes you think it's ok to completely disregard what I asked? What makes you think that your judgment is somehow better than mine?"

Al took in a breath and let it out. He'd known when he packed the extra suit that this could be a consequence. "What do you want me to say? I just wanted to be sure that if something happened during the trip...and you've got to admit that happens more often than not...that you wouldn't be caught with a dilemma. You had an entire closet of great suits that you never wear. I apologize for disregarding your request, but I only did it because I wanted to help. I just figured you were too stressed to think it through."

"That's no excuse," Sam responded, standing firm.

"No, it's not...but it is an explanation." Al squirmed. "It's like I said, the cost of getting a proper new suit at this time of year in the Big Apple's expensive. I know. A lot of my clothes come from here. You're already upset about the cash flow which I get."

Sam realized that Al was right about the costs. He'd just spent more for two canisters of film than he'd spent for six in Alamogordo. Lord knew what a good suit would cost. Plus, the alterations that would be needed for the other suit would not be that extensive. It still made him mad that Al had taken that decision upon himself. "Well just don't do it again. I've been on my own for a long time. I don't need you second guessing me."

Al nodded slightly but with a bit of discomfort. He didn't like to promise something that might be difficult to keep. "I'll try..."

"That's not good enough."

Blinking, Al shrugged. "Sam, I can't say I'll never make another misstep. I'll do my best to never give you reason to question what I've done. Can't we leave it at that?"

"I guess there isn't much choice, is there?" Sam moved over to the couch by the window and slumped down on it. "I know you're only doing it because you care and that's why I'm not as angry as I could be but it really doesn't make me feel good to know that you don't always trust my judgment."

"You've got a good head on your shoulders, Kid, and most of the time you're spot on. It's just sometimes...well..." Al stopped for a moment before continuing his thoughts. "Like I said, you were working on your presentation...which was fantastic...and I just don't think you were thinking it through. That's the only reason I decided it wouldn't hurt."

"What was there to think through? If something doesn't fit, you don't pack it and take it. I don't think I need to think a lot about that." Realizing belatedly that he'd been complimented, Sam added, "Thanks. Hopefully, Thursday goes as well."

"I'm sure it will. As to the suit, let's just focus on the future. I know a great tailor here in town. I've known his family since I was a kid. I'm sure he'll help us get that suit fixed for you."

Sam slouched down so he could rest his head on the back of the couch. "Maybe I should just wear jeans and a sweater. You know, give them the real me."

You could do that." Al stated. "But if you want funding from them, you'll need to present a more professional appearance. Up to you." He somewhat wished that Sam would choose the real him. It would mean that they'd have to go a different route for funding but at least Sam wouldn't have to deal with private financiers.

Blowing out an aggravated breath, Sam sat up straighter. "I guess that wouldn't work, then. Got to impress them before I bring out the real me. So, which suit did you deem appropriate and can this guy you know get it ready in two days?"

"I chose the grey Zegna." Al answered. "And I'm sure Sal will be able to get it ready that quickly."

"I guess I should have listened when you kept telling me to cut back on the marshmallow Santas." Sam let out a little chuckle. "I might start resembling Santa a little too much."

"Not a chance. From the way you make it sound you've ballooned three sizes which just isn't true. You run too much to really screw things up."

"We get the funding and I might not have the time to get as much running in."

"We'll put in a gym with a treadmill. I'm sure the entire project staff will thank you for that."

"A treadmill's not the same as getting outside but I guess beggars can't be choosers." Sam got up from the couch and started toward his bedroom. "So, what kind of restaurant is this place you were talking about?"

"Italian. The real thing. Best Manzo al Vino Rosso I've ever had."

Sam let out a small groan. "Italian…again? Why is it every great restaurant you know about is Italian?"

"I guess it's in the blood," Al replied. He thought for a moment. "There was another place that Maxine liked. It was Cuban. Would you like that instead?"

"You know, I'm English...or at least my family a couple of greats back is," Sam said ignoring the question about Cuban food. "You don't see me always going out for bangers and mash, do you?"

"No, but then the English aren't known for their culinary brilliance like the Italians are," Al responded with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Ha ha. Don't give up your day job to go into comedy." Sam thought for a moment. "I know where we're going."

"Where?"

"Carnegie Deli. I went there with Mom and Dad when I played at Carnegie Hall."

"What kind of food do they have?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's a deli. It's New York City. What kind of food do you think they have? Chinese?"

"Well, if it's like the one Ruthie used to shop at, probably some really yummola stuff."

"Exactly. I remember getting the pastrami on rye. That was twenty years ago and I still remember that sandwich. And after we're done eating, we can walk off what we ate by going over to Rockefeller Center."

"Sounds like a great evening. Listen, why don't you get yourself cleaned up and I'll give Sal a call. Then we'll have nothing to worry about for the night."

Nodding, Sam went into his bedroom. He pulled a pair of jeans and a sweater out of the dresser. A small smile came to him as he looked at the sweater and jeans then threw them on the bed. As much as he might complain about Al second guessing and mother-henning him, he had to give it to him that he did know what his favorites were.

He sat down on the bed and toed off his dress shoes and pulled off his socks. The suit pants soon followed. When he tried to take off the scrub shirt, he couldn't stop the small exclamation of pain that escaped him as he moved his left arm. When Al seemed to materialize almost immediately in the doorway he had to quickly stifle a laugh. He could have almost predicted that's what would happen as soon as the exclamation left his mouth.

"What's wrong, Kid? You ok? You pull the stiches or something?"

"Relax," Sam said with a touch of mirth in his voice. "The local's just starting to wear off and my arm didn't take too kindly to being moved but that's all. See," he said as he gestured to the bandage, "There's no blood. Still as white as when they put it on."

Al looked closely and saw that Sam was right. Still, he was going to watch his friend through the evening. The fiasco from the fireworks display a few years earlier told him Sam could be evasive where serious injury was concerned. Right now, though, there was no reason to question his words. "Ok, but you let me know if it does get worse. We should probably fill that prescription too."

"That would definitely be good idea," Sam agreed, knowing that the painkiller would be appreciated.

"Good news," Al said as he helped Sam out of the shirt, careful to move his arm as little as possible. "I spoke with Sal. He said he'd come by here around seven fifteen tomorrow morning before he goes into his shop. I told him what had happened to your other suit and the fact that the Zegna was going to have to be let out some. I also told him that it needs to be ready in two days. He said that shouldn't be a problem."

Sam had grimaced as the shirt come off. "Well, that should take care of that then. Thanks."

Not sure whether Sam was talking about setting up the alterations or the fact that he'd helped him out of the shirt, Al answered both, "No problem, Kid."

Sam looked at the sweater, suddenly dreading putting it on. "That's not going to be easy to get on with this arm."

"You got something else you could put on? Until we get those painkillers?"

"You're the one who packed, not me. Remember." Sam grabbed the flannel shirt he'd also put on the bed and pulled it on. "Besides, if we're going to walk around outside, I'd rather have something warm on. It'll only hurt for a little while."

Al looked sheepish. "Yeah, I guess I did. Let me know what I can do to help."

"Don't over react if it does hurt." Sam grabbed the sweater and pulled it on over his head. Although he pulled in a quick, pained breath, he tried to keep any other reaction of pain to himself.

Once the sweater was over Sam's head, Al let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding but didn't say anymore. "So, you say the pastrami's pretty good at this joint?"

"Yeah. From what I remember it was." Sam lightly rubbed his arm where the bandage was. "I should see if I can get some cling wrap while we're out."

"Ok. We'll ask the taxi driver to take us to a drug store first."

"No need. I bet there'll be a Duane Reade on a couple of corners between the deli and Rockefeller Center. We can just go into one of them."

"If you can wait for your meds, ok."

"I wouldn't take them 'til we got back here anyway."

"Why? I know your arm's hurting."

"Because I don't want to fall asleep face down in my pastrami. It's not hurting that bad."

"Could have fooled me," Al said to himself. "Hey, while you finish getting dressed, I'll call down to the desk to have them call us a taxi."

"Don't bother. We can take the PATH into Manhattan and then grab a cab there. It'll cost less and probably take less time, too."

"You sure you want to risk getting bumped with that shoulder?"

Sam looked down at his shoulder then to his friend. "Yes, I'm sure. Do me a favor and back off the mother hen a little, ok?"

Al blinked. "Um, yeah, sure. Sorry." He nodded to the common area. "I'll just wait out there."

"Be right out." Sam finished dressing then joined Al in the common area. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Al said, turning off the TV he'd put on more for the noise than anything else.

The two men grabbed their coats and left the room, Sam making sure the door was latched before moving down the corridor. When they got down to the lobby level, Sam pointed to the restaurant. "You know, we could just eat there instead of waiting 'til we get back into Manhattan."

"I thought you wanted to walk off your meal at Rockefeller Center?"

"And I still do. We eat here, hop on the PATH, then get a cab to Rockefeller Center."

Al walked over to the posted menu. "Looks ok. Nothing to write home about but good choices."

"Good. I'm starving," Sam stated, pointing to fact that his appetite was back on track. The two men went over to the hostess station and waited to be seated.

The floor to ceiling windows in the lobby continued into the restaurant affording views on three sides. The two men were seated at one of the corner tables. The window beside them offered a view of skyline of lower Manhattan while through the window behind Al; Sam could see the Statue of Liberty.

Once more, Al noticed the almost child-like wonder in his friend's eyes as they sat and took in the view.

"Even if you think the food's nothing to write home about," the younger man said not taking his eyes off the panorama beyond the window, "I think this more than makes up for it."

"I guess it does, Kid," Al agreed. He paused. "If you want, we can visit the Statue of Liberty tomorrow. The view from the crown is spectacular. The only thing is, it's a pretty good climb to the top."

"I don't mind that. It would be a good workout."

"Then we'll do that after Sal leaves."

"It's a plan, then,"

Al was answering in the affirmative as their waitress walked to the table. "Good evening, gentlemen. I'm Lauren and I'll be serving you tonight. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Al looked up. "I'll take an ice tea. How about you, Sam?"

"Diet Coke, please."

"Great. I'll get those right to you. Before that though, let me tell you tonight's specials." She went into her spiel before leaving to get the drinks.

Al looked over the menu, quickly making his choice. "I'm going with the scallops."

Sam looked at what Al had suggested then voiced his choice. "The braised short ribs with risotto sounds good. I think I'll get that. We can also get the spinach artichoke dip as an appetizer."

Al smiled. One thing that was certain, his friend's stomach was a good gauge of his emotional state. "Yeah. Sounds good, Kid."

Having made their decisions, when Lauren came back with their drinks and some complementary bread, they were able to let her know what they wanted. As she walked off, Al took to appreciating the woman's retreating form.

"She's married," Sam pointed out when he saw what Al was looking at. He continued putting some butter on the hot bread.

"What?" Al asked, turning back to Sam with a confused look.

"I said she's married." At the continuing confused expression, Sam went on explaining, "She had on a wedding ring. You probably didn't see that since you kept looking somewhere else." He took a bite.

"Ok. She's got a wedding ring. Why does that matter?"

Speaking around the bread, he replied, "Well, the way you're looking at her…" He swallowed and continued, "…and do not give me that appreciating thing either."

"I'm not planning on asking her out. And why can't I appreciate?"

"It's demeaning," Sam said with a sigh. This was a discussion the two men had had more times than he cared to think about. "It's treating women as objects instead of humans. Look, just once, can't you humor me and not ogle every female you see just for one night? That's all I'm asking for. One night."

"It's not demeaning anyone," Al started. Seeing that Sam was taking this stance stubbornly, he rolled his eyes. "Ok. Fine, but if I do it tonight, you've got to stop calling me on this non-existent flaw the rest of our trip."

"Somehow, that doesn't seem quite fair," Sam pointed out. "But, fine. If it means at least a night without your eyes falling out, I won't say anything. But..." he went on to say.

"But what?" Al asked suspiciously before Sam had a chance to finish. "There's no buts. It's simple as that."

"Trust me, Al. Nothing's ever 'simple' with you." Sam could see his friend gearing up and held up a hand to stop him. "Just hear me out. I just think we should make this interesting."

"Interesting how?" Although some of the suspicion had left him, Al still had a feeling Sam was up to something. There was a look of mischief in the younger man's eyes. Given the alternative of Sam being in a bad mood, he was willing to play into whatever his friend had in mind if it kept him in a good mood.

"Interesting in that I think there should be some stakes in this. You know, in case one of us fails."

"What would you be failing at?"

"Well, I won't ogle anyone either," Sam provided reasonably as he took another bite of the bread

"Oh, like there's a challenge," Al responded with exaggeration. "The choir boy's going to play by the same rules. You'd win hands down."

"Ok. Fine. What's your solution?"

"In addition to no ogling, you've got to..." Al tried to think of something Sam would balk at. As he thought of something, he smiled, "...go to a few dance clubs I know."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "How many clubs are you talking about...and how long at each."

"Three. Thirty minutes at each club."

"Make it one club and Thirty minutes."

"How about in we meet in the middle. Two clubs, Thirty minutes each."

"Fine, but I don't think it's fair."

"Oh really? You think a slam dunk for you would be fair?" Now Al was warming up to Sam's plan. "So what stakes did you have in mind?"

Sam paused for a moment as he thought about the question. He hadn't quite expected the older man to agree so fast. "Cigars," he said a few seconds later. "If you fail, you have to give up cigars for a week."

Al groaned theatrically when he heard Sam's idea. "You're taking all the fun away, Kid. First women and now cigars. What's next? I cut off my arm?"

"That won't be necessary and I'm not asking you to give up both," Sam pointed out. "Just one or the other. So?"

"Say I agree to this? What are you going to do if you can't keep your end of things?" Al challenged.

"Um. I hadn't thought of that."

"Oh, I've got an idea."

From the smile on Al's face, Sam knew he was in trouble. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this idea of yours."

"Always so suspicious," Al said as he shook his head. "Don't worry. I'm not going to make you give up anything. In fact, if you don't keep your end of things, you get something."

"I get something?" Now Sam was really getting nervous but, he was the one who'd started this. He couldn't back out now.

"Oh yeah. If you fail, I set you up on a date with the lady of my choosing."

Hearing the stakes, Sam squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. He could only imagine who Al would fix him up with. However, that would only happen if he failed to keep up his end of things. He'd have to just make sure he didn't fail. "Ok. You're on with one little change." He didn't give his friend a chance to ask what the change was. "It's not just for tonight. You can't ogle, stare at, make comments about or otherwise be degrading toward women for the whole trip. Otherwise, it's a pretty lopsided bet if you only have to adhere to that for one night but I have to also do the same thing, not say anything to you for the whole trip and go to these clubs of yours."

"The whole week?" Al asked weakly. When Sam nodded, Al let out a sigh. "You make a hard bargain, Kid, but ok. You're on."

Sam reached his hand across the table to Al. "It's a deal," he said as they shook. A small smile played around his mouth. The hardest thing for him was going to be lasting the half hour in the two clubs. It was almost a sure thing in his mind that this was a bet he couldn't lose. He finished his bread.

Right after shaking on the bet, Lauren came back with their appetizer and to replenish their waters. Afterwards, she walked off again. Sam had put a pretty good dent in the food with Al nibbling a bit. He thanked the waitress when she brought their meals a short time later. After she left, Al took interest in the salt shaker.

"What's so interesting in the salt?"

"The, um...potatoes need a little salt," Al said, picking up the shaker and putting some on his food.

Before his friend could really put any of the salt on his food, Sam put his hand over Al's stopping him. "You haven't even tasted them so you don't know. What's up?"

"They're potatoes. They generally need salt," Al tried to argue.

"No," Sam disagreed not releasing the other man's hand. "You don't just pick up the salt shaker without trying something first. I know you, Al. Now c'mon. What gives?"

The older man put the salt down. "Ok...ok...I was looking at the salt shaker because I didn't want to look Lauren's way and be tempted."

As soon as he heard the explanation, Sam's cheek began to twitch as he held back a laugh. "I'd find something besides the salt if I were you or your blood pressure's going to skyrocket."

"It's not funny. You use your coping mechanisms and I'll use mine," Al retorted.

"Ok, ok," Sam soothed. "I'm not laughing." He picked up his fork to try his dinner. "Mmm…this is pretty good. How's the scallops?"

Al took a bite. "Like butter." He then took a bite of the potatoes and reached for the salt shaker again, "...but these really do need salt."

"So, you still good with going back into Manhattan and going to Rockefeller Center tonight?"

"Yeah. I think that will be fun...and after the trip to the ER today, I'd say both of us deserve a little of that."

"Can I convince you to put on a pair of skates?"

"You really want to go skating, huh?"

Sam shrugged at the question. "It's Christmas time and we're in New York. How often does this kind of chance come? You want to pass on it?"

"Ok fine. Skating it is to start."

"You're gonna love it," Sam assured. "And I'll make sure you don't fall."

"I'm gonna hold you to that."

The two men continued their meal, sometimes in companionable silence and sometimes discussing things of interest. For both, it was a pleasant interlude.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was late when the two men made it back to the hotel room. After finishing dinner, they'd taken the PATH into the city and then a cabto Rockefeller Center. Al made sure to stay on the straight and narrow not once allowing his eyes to stray.

They'd entered Rockefeller Center form Fifth Avenue walking down between the lit angels. When he'd caught sight of the tree, Sam's breath had caught. Al had to admit he was impressed by it as well.

As soon as he was able to get a clear shot, Sam had pulled out his camera and started snapping away. While he did that, Al did his best to act as a buffer for his friend so his injured arm wouldn't get jostled by the crowd.

When they made it down to the ice rink, there was a long line of people waiting for their turn. Al almost suggested that they pass on the skating but he knew it was something Sam really wanted to do while they were in New York.

They bought their tickets and joined the long line. They'd been standing in line for a little over a half hour and it didn't look like they had much longer to wait. In the time they'd been in line, it had nearly doubled in size.

Sam caught sight of a mother and daughter. The girl looked sad as the woman explained that the line was much too long for them to wait to skate. He looked over at Al and there was an unspoken agreement between the two before he called the woman over and offered her and her daughter the tickets that he and Al had bought as well as their place in the line. The woman had been grateful to them and the girl overjoyed that she'd get to skate on the ice at Rockefeller Center.

Knowing that the line was now too long to buy tickets and wait again, Sam and Al, instead contented themselves with getting a hot chocolate and watching those that were on the ice and then walking around some more.

After walking around for about an hour, Al could see that Sam's arm was really starting to bother him. He knew the local had long since worn off. Despite his best efforts, Sam had also gotten bumped into a few times as well. He waited another fifteen minutes to see if Sam would say something but, when he didn't, suggested it might not be a bad idea to start back to the hotel saying that later would be better to go to the clubs as well. Sam had been relieved at Al's suggestion and agreed.

Before getting a taxi back to the PATH station, they went into the Duane Reed they'd left Sam's prescription at to pick it up and some other supplies they'd need to change the dressing on the wound and other items Sam said he'd need. Once they had what they needed, they got in the taxi and were soon at the PATH station. Fifteen minutes later, they were walking the short distance from the station to their hotel.

"You don't mind that we didn't get to skate, do you?" Sam asked as they walked into the lobby.

"Not a problem, Sam. Skating's not my number one sport you know. Besides, did you see how that little girl lit up when you gave her the tickets?"

"Yeah, she did. I was glad we were able to do that for them. Still, it's a chance we might not have again." Now that they were in the warmth of the hotel, Sam took off the gloves and newsboy hat he'd put on while outside and loosened his scarf. "I hope the pictures come out. That was really something, wasn't it?"

"I don't think I've seen a more beautiful Christmas display. It was a magical scene."

"Magical's a good word." They made their way over to the elevators and Sam pushed the button. "The department store windows are supposed to be decorated for Christmas. Maybe we can do some walking to see that tomorrow or Wednesday or something."

"Well, we do have to get a new shirt for you. Window shopping can be part of that."

"Ok," Sam agreed as the elevator doors opened and they got in. He tried to hold back a yawn without success.

"The last couple of days have really been a bear for you, Kid," Al said with sympathy.

"I guess," Sam agreed. He rubbed his arm lightly. "At least I'm not a guest at the hospital."

"There is that. Not always a foregone conclusion when you make a trip to the ER."

"Unfortunately." Sam leaned against the back wall of the elevator for the short ride up to the floor they were staying on. "Maybe I'll be too tired to hear you tonight."

"Hey, maybe you'll be lucky and I won't snore."

"I guess that's an option, too." The elevator doors opened and the two men walked out.

"And there's the painkillers," the older man reminded. "Won't those knock you into a deeper sleep?"

"I guess so." When they got to the room, Sam didn't even search for the key in his pocket. He just stood to the side and waited for Al to unlock the door.

"Remember, Sal's going to be here by seven fifteen," the older man commented as he opened the door.

"Uh huh," Sam agreed as he walked in the room once Al had swung the door open. It felt as if he'd started to crash as soon as he got on the elevator. He shrugged out of his coat and put it and the rest of his outer wear on the couch. "I'm gonna go get changed for bed."

"Yeah. You do that. I'm going to watch a little TV."

Sam went into his bedroom. He came out a few minutes later dressed in a pair of sweatpants, a Snoopy t-shirt, and a zippered sweatshirt over that. He slumped down on the other end of the sofa from Al saying nothing.

"You cold?"

"Huh?"

Nodding to the attire, Al clarified, "I know you like your sweats to sleep in but you look a bit bundled up, so I was wondering if you're cold."

Sam looked down at what he had on. "It's just a sweatshirt and t-shirt."

"Ok," Al responded turning his eyes back to the news which he'd started watching while Sam was getting changed. Neither spoke for a while and when Al turned to comment on a particular news story he found Sam sound asleep sitting up. Chuckling, he got up and moved over to his friend. "Come on, Sam. I'd let you sleep here but then you'd have a cricked neck in addition to your sore arm. Let's get you into your room."

"Mmmm…wha?" Sam asked looking up at his friend blearily. He'd taken one of the painkillers and it was starting to work.

"Bed, Kid. You need to be in yours."

"Ok," Sam agreed although he didn't get up.

Al rolled his eyes. "Great." He put both of his hands out and took Sam's arms such that he'd have some leverage. Starting to pull up, he pushed out, "Maybe I should have stopped you from eating those chocolate Santa's. You gotta help me with this."

"Ok, ok," Sam complained batting Al's hands away. "Can do it myself."

"Good," Al said, backing away.

Sam pushed up from the couch and made his unsteady way to his bedroom. "G'night."

"Pleasant dream's," Al sent after him.

"Uh huh." Sam made his way into the bedroom. He pulled off the sweatshirt and dropped it on the foot of the bed before getting under the covers. As his head hit the pillow, he realized he'd forgotten to turn of the light. He let out a little sigh and pulled the blanket over his head, too tired to get up and turn it off. He hoped Al would notice it on and turn it off when he went to bed.

Al looked over to Sam's room a couple of times as the news was finishing. He thought it was strange that he could still see the light under the door considering how tired the younger man had been. Finally, he shut off the TV, ready to go to bed himself.

Walking over to Sam's room first, he knocked softly. When he didn't receive an answer, he stuck his head in. Seeing the cover's pulled up over his friend's head accompanied by a soft snoring sound, he smiled. "You get a good night's rest, Sammy," he said quietly as he turned off the light and closed the door. Shutting off the lights in the common area he went back to his own room to take his own advice.

Unfortunately, sleep didn't come as easy for Al as it did for his friend. In the quiet of the night, thoughts came unbidden to him. Even though he hadn't said anything at the time - nor did he have any intention of saying anything now - it had given him a fright when Sam had taken off after the would-be purse snatcher and was slashed by the knife. Instead of just the wound on his arm, Sam could have very easily been stabbed elsewhere instead. Not for the first time, Al wished that Sam wasn't quite so prone to rushing in where angels feared to tread.

After lying sleepless for another forty-five minutes, he got up from his bed and went

back to his friend's room. Pushing open the door that he'd left ajar, there was just enough light from the common room and coming in around the curtain's on the windows in Sam's room to make out his friend in the bed.

Unlike when he'd poked his head in when he'd turned off the light, instead of having the blanket pulled over his head, they were now pushed down to Sam's waist and partially hanging off the bed. Al knew his friend tended to move around a lot when he slept and that's how the blankets had likely come to be where they were.

In the faint light, the white bandage wrapped around Sam's left arm almost seemed to glow. A reminder, not that Al needed it tonight; of how close Sam had come. For a brief moment he thought about LoNigro's words and how he'd said that Sam needed someone to, basically, control him. On the one hand, that could prevent some of the problems Sam encountered. On the other hand, though, it would take away that unique part of Sam and make him someone completely different. Al knew he'd rather have the friend he had now, even when he rushed into situations without giving them much thought, than the person Sam would be if he was stopped from doing that.

Al crept closer to the bed to pull the blankets up and over his friend. When he did, Sam rolled over with a contented murmur and snuggled into them.

Before walking away, Al lightly brushed the back of his hand down his friend's cheek and smiled when he felt that it was cool. At least it didn't look like there was going to be a repeat of past events where something small ended as something worse.

Assured that his friend was sleeping comfortably, Al padded softly across the room to leave and go back to his. As he reached the door, he heard his friend's soft voice call out behind him. Turning, he saw Sam's head lifted slightly off the pillow as he squinted in his direction. "Go back to sleep, Sam," Al softly ordered.

"Ok," Sam agreed in a soft voice as well. He dropped his head back down to the pillow, snuggling into the blanket.

Al shook his head slightly as he watched the younger man obey him immediately. "Probably wasn't really awake," he whispered as he left and went to his room. This time, when he lay down in bed, he was able to fall asleep within minutes.

The next morning, the alarm went off. Al stretched and got out of bed. When he walked into the common room, he was surprised Sam wasn't up. He shook his head. Two days in a row and he'd beat the kid to the rooster. Walking over to Sam's door, he knocked lightly. "Sam? You up?

When he didn't hear an answer, he opened the door. Sam was still sleeping. "Guess I'll get cleaned up," he said to himself. Al gathered his things and went into the bathroom for a quick shower. Once out, he got dressed before going back to Sam's room. Finding the man had not yet awoken, Al walked over to the bed and shook him gently. "Sam? You need to get up, buddy. We have that appointment with Sal."

Sam tried to pull away from the hand on his shoulder. "Mmmm…tell Tom to milk 'em. It's his turn."

The older man chuckled at Sam's response. "I would if there were cows in the hotel, Kid."

Sam cracked an eye open and looked up at Al. "I don't wanna get up. I'm comfortable."

"I know and I'm sorry. But if you don't want to have to buy a new suit...and Sal's coming over as a favor to me, remember? I guess it's your money, though."

"Fine." Sam got out of bed and made his bleary eyed way out of his room and to the bathroom grumbling the whole way about having to get up at the crack of dawn when he was on vacation. When he came out a few minutes later, his face was damp from the water he'd splashed on it and he looked slightly more awake. "I need to wrap the bandage in the cling wrap so it doesn't get wet."

"Sure. Where is it?"

"I don't know. You had the bag last night."

Al thought for a moment. "Oh yeah. It's on the sofa. Let me get that." He went out and brought the bag back in. "We do this like the last time, right?"

"Yeah," Sam said as he dropped down to sit on the bed. He tried to hold back a yawn to no avail. "I'm sleeping late tomorrow."

"Ok. We can both do that." Al started to wrap the film around the bandage, when he was finished he asked, "Do I need to tape the top?

"And bottom. Need to make sure water doesn't get in. When I get out of the shower, the bandage will have to be changed."

"We have the stuff for that right here." After taping both sides of the film, he stated, "I'll make some coffee and order some Danish from room service while you're showering. I figure we can eat something more substantial later."

"Why don't you order a pot of coffee too? No offense, Al, but the stuff that comes out of in room coffee maker tastes more like dishwater than it does coffee. I want something good.

"I've had worse," Al stated. Over the years he'd gotten used to drinking whatever was available. "But I get what you're saying. A good cup of coffee is always a treat. I'll order coffee too."

"Thanks," Sam said as Al completed his task of covering the bandage. He gathered what he needed for his shower and went into the bathroom. He was finished and dressed, save his shirt, about fifteen minutes later.

Al called room service for coffee and Danish. Afterwards, he went to his closet and pulled out Sam's suit, taking it into the common room. He considered that Sam wouldn't be facing getting up so early if he hadn't been so impulsive and destroyed the other suit. He realized that he'd once again returned to the dilemma that had kept him awake from the night before. He understood that was just a part of who his friend was and he was proud that Sam had felt that stopping the thief was the most important thing to do at that moment. Still, it bothered him that Sam didn't always think things through to their potential outcomes. He was shaken from his thoughts when Sam walked into the room.

"Do you mind helping me change the bandage?"

"Sure, Kid. Let's get that taken care of."

Sam sat on the couch while Al changed the bandage on his arm. When he got a look at the wound, he grimaced but tried to hide it from Sam. Based on the way it looked, he guessed that the knife the man had used had been serrated. It was probably why it took so many stiches to close.

He tried to be as gentle as possible as he secured the new bandage in place but he still heard the sharp intake of breath from his friend. "You take anything?" he asked as he taped the last corner in place.

"No," Sam answered with a quick shake of his head. "It's not really bothering me that much except for now. I didn't want to take something if I didn't have to."

"Makes sense but the doctor prescribed it for a reason." Seeing the resistance in Sam's eyes, Al continued, "I'm not saying you have to take it. Just know it's there just in case. That's all. If you don't think you need it, you don't take it."

"I guess that makes sense." Now that Al was finished with bandage, Sam got up from the couch, went into his room and finished getting dressed. As he walked back into the room, there was a knock at the door. He went over and opened it, finding that room service was finally delivering their light breakfast. After the man brought in the tray, Sam signed for the delivery. "Thank you," he stated before the man left.

"What kind did they send up?" Al inquired.

Sam picked up the silver lid. "It's a mix. Looks like there's a cheese and a few fruit ones."

"Which do you want?"

Surveying the Danish on the tray, Sam settled on one and put it on one of the provided napkins. "I'll take the apple," he told his friend as he poured a cup of coffee. Taking his breakfast over to the couch, he was just settling down when there was another knock on the door.

Al had been about to take a Danish but instead went to the door to answer it. A short, balding older gentleman dressed conservatively was on the other side. "Sal! It's good to see you again! Come on in." As the man walked in Al nodded to Sam, "This is my friend, Sam Beckett...the one whose suit I told you about. Sam? Salvadore Mollica, the best tailor in the area bar none."

"Al, your praise is appreciated but I don't think I'd quite fit its breadth." He smiled at Sam with his hand out. "Good to meet you, Sam. Any friend of Al's is a friend of mine."

Sam had placed the napkin and Danish on the coffee table and quickly wiped his hand with another napkin before standing and taking the proffered hand. "Glad to meet you too, Mr. Mollica."

The man grinned. "Please. Call me Sal. No need for any formality amongst friends."

"You're just being modest," Al responded before nodding to the coffee and Danish. "Would you like something to eat? Some coffee, Sal?"

"Thank you, but no. I'll need to get to the shop after this." He looked over to the couch where the grey Armani was laying. "Oh. Beautiful suit. I can see why you wish to alter it. Perhaps you'd like me to look at the damaged suit as well? I might be able to fix it too."

"No offense to your tailoring, Sal, but it took twenty-one stitches to close up the gash in my arm. I think it would take a lot more than that to fix that sleeve plus there's a good-sized blood stain on it too."

"That's too bad, Sam," Sal commiserated. "Al told me what you did going after that guy. The world needs a few more like you...a lot less like that stugot."

"Stugot?" Sam asked, confused with the terminology.

Knowing how Sam wouldn't appreciate the slang, Al provided a milder translation, "Nozzle."

"Oh." He let out a sigh. "Thank you. It just wasn't right for him to take that lady's purse."

Sal looked over to Al, slightly amused. "No, it wasn't. Ok, Sam. Why don't you get into your suit and we'll get it marked." He put the small satchel he'd been carrying on the table. Opening it, he pulled out a tape measure, pin cushion, and tailor's chalk. Sam picked up the suit and went into his room to change into the suit. While he was out the room, the old tailor looked over to Al. "Your friend doesn't use slang?"

"He grew up in the Midwest."

"How long's he been your friend?"

"About six years."

"And he hasn't picked up a few choice words from you?"

Al shrugged. "Sam's upbringing was more sheltered than Mickey's and mine. His parent's raised him to not use cruder language."

Sal nodded. "Yeah. I guess it is that. Well, I still stand by what I said. We need more people willing to help others."

"Got that right."

Sam walked back into the room. The suit was tight but it wasn't too small. Sal grinned. "Let out a few seams and you'll look like a million bucks."

"Grey's a good color on him," Al agreed.

Sam shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny from the two men. "So, you think you can fit it?"

"Easy. Armani's are a joy to work with." Sal moved closer. "Now just relax and let me do my work."

"Don't worry, Sam. Sal's a master."

The fitting went along well until Sal unknowingly grasped Sam's left arm to turn him. When he did, Sam let out a low groan of pain and pulled away from the man.

"Oh...I'm sorry. That must have been the place that stugot stuck you. Did I hurt you badly?" Sal responded to the expression of pain.

"No. It's ok. Just give me a second."

Al had been eating one of the Danish and drinking his coffee during the fitting but with the moan he became focused on Sam. "You need any of your medicine? I can get it for you."

"No," Sam answered with a quick shake of his head. "It's ok. It's not bad."

Al gauged whether Sam was being honest with him and finally stated. "Ok."

Sal apologized again and finished the fitting, being much more careful. Once that was done, Sam went into his room again to take off the suit then brought it out to Sal. "I'm really grateful for this," he said as he handed the suit over.

"You're welcome. Al and my cousin were friends back in the old neighborhood. He's been coming to me for years. When he called, it was just natural to fit you in."

"Well, I still appreciate it."

Sal patted him on the back, making sure it wasn't his injured side. "You just stay one of the good guys, capice?"

"Yeah, capice."

Sal turned to Al. "And you. Magdalena says you keep out of trouble."

Smiling, Al answered. "You tell Madalena that's what I always do."

"Yeah, yeah. Like she'll believe you." Sal paused, picking up his satchel and the suit bag that Al had provided. "I'll have this back tomorrow afternoon."

"Thanks," Sam said one more time. He picked up the carafe of coffee. "You sure I can't pour a cup for you?"

"I'm sure. I really do need to get to the shop. I've opened at eight am for the last thirty years. But thank you for the offer."

Al walked over and opened the door, thanking the tailor again for coming. The man said his goodbyes and left. "Great guy, huh Sam?"

While Al saw Sal out, Sam picked up the cup of coffee he'd poured for himself. He could feel that it had gone cold in the cup. He took it to the bathroom and poured it down the sink then went back to the common room and poured another cup and sat down on the couch to drink it with his apple Danish. "Yeah, he seems it."

"And I guarantee the suit will fit you better than when you bought it."

"As long as it fits without feeling like I need to hold my breath constantly, I'll be happy."

"It will. To tell you the truth, it wasn't that bad when you put it on. When you said it didn't fit 'cause you'd gained weight, I thought you meant you couldn't even button it not that it was just a little snug. It wouldn't take much to get the rest of your suits altered if they're fitting you the same way"

"I'll keep it in mind," Sam said.

Al looked over to friend. "You sure your arm's ok? I know Sal didn't mean to knock it but since he did..." he asked, trailing off.

"No. I'm ok. Or at least it's not hurt more than it was before. It's going to take a while to heal."

"Yeah. I suppose." Al took a second Danish. He gestured to the remaining pastry. "There's one more left. You want it?"

"Yeah, sure." Sam took the last Danish and put it on the napkin with the rest of the one he was eating.

"I was thinking, now that we've got that out of the way, we can visit Central Park. You said you wanted to do that yesterday. We didn't get chance."

"Sure. We can do that. I thought you wanted to go to the Statue of Liberty, though."

"Yeah. I want to do that too. I guess I'm trying to put too much into each day, huh."

"You're just trying to take advantage of the time we have." Sam looked out the window and saw the gray, foreboding sky. He vaguely remembered something from the news last night saying there was a chance of snow and that the winds would be picking up. "Maybe not sticking me on a ferry today's a good idea. I've got a feeling it might be little rough out there today."

"Why don't we put that off then? Maybe tomorrow will be better. We can just bundle up for the park."

"That sounds like a good idea." Sam put the rest of his Danish down on the coffee table and got up to refill his coffee. "If you don't mind, I might work on the presentation for Thursday a little this morning, though, since it's still early."

"Sure. We've got the entire day. You mind if I watch a little TV then? I noticed a movie on HBO I'd like to catch."

"No. Go ahead. I'm going to go in the bedroom though so it doesn't bother me."

"Ok. Sure." Al sat down on the couch and used the remote. "Good, it's just starting," he said as the opening credits for _Total Recall _came on the screen.

"Have fun," Sam said as he took his coffee and the rest of the Danish and went into the bedroom. He pulled out the materials he'd brought with him for the meeting on Thursday then sat cross-legged on the bed. As he settled down with the notebooks and folders, he was reminded of his days at MIT when he'd had a small studio apartment and had spent a lot of time studying just as he was now.

Al watched the latest Schwarzenegger movie with interest. He'd always enjoyed good science fiction and this story proved to be excellent. Over the time the show was on the air, he noticed the door stayed closed and figured that Sam was hard at work. As the movie ended, he got up knocked on the door. Although Sam could stay focused for hours, in Al's opinion, that wasn't always healthy. "Hey, Kid. Ready to come up for air?"

When he heard Al knocking on the door, Sam assumed it was probably because housekeeping had come to make up the room. He didn't hear the question his friend asked. "Can they come back later?" he called out.

"Who?" Al called back, cracking open the door.

"Housekeeping," Sam answered as the door opened a little. "Isn't that why you're knocking?"

"No," Al answered as he opened the door fully. "I was knocking cause it's been two hours. I figure you need a break at least once in a while."

Sam looked up from the notebook he'd been writing in when the door opened and Al came into the room. "It's been two hours?" he questioned. He didn't think the other man was lying to him. It just didn't seem like that much time had gone by. He looked at the bedside clock and, sure enough, it was just about ten o'clock. "I didn't think I'd been in here that long."

"Yeah. When you're concentrating on something, you tend to lose track of time. Still, I know you want to window shop, we've got that shirt to pick up, and Central Park can still be on today's agenda. If you want to work some more, though, I'd understand."

Sam put down the notebook and stretched the kinks out of his back and neck. "No. It's ok. I think this is as ready as it's going to be and I'd rather not spend the day cooped up on a hotel room. I don't think you want to either."

"Not really."

"Let me put on something a little warmer, then, and we can get going."

"No problem, Kid. The weather forecast showed it was going to be cold today so make sure you bundle up." Al took Sam's empty coffee mug and brought it out to the common area. He put it, as well as his on the tray with the remains of their breakfast. A few minutes later, Sam came out of his bedroom. He'd exchanged the long-sleeved t-shirt he'd been wearing for a turtleneck shirt under a dark green and cream Fair Isle sweater.

"All set," Sam said as he came into the room. He eyed what the older man had on. Don't you think you might want to put on something a little warmer than that? Like maybe a sweater or something?"

"I was going to get a jacket when I got my coat. You know I grew up around here. I know how to dress for the weather."

"Seeing you just wearing that, I wasn't sure."

Al smiled, shaking his head slightly. "You goofball." He went into his room and came back bundled up in his overcoat with a hat, gloves, and scarf to boot. "Satisfied?"

"Yeah. Satisfied."

The men took the PATH back into the city. Sam had studied the timetables and knew how to get from one part of the city to another whether by bus, taxi, subway, or other. Once they'd reached Central Park, they got out and started along a pathway. It had started to snow lightly.

Walking along the broad paths, Sam smiled. "You know, I've gotten used to New Mexico for the most part but one thing I miss is snow."

Al looked over to him. "Snow's pretty and all, but I'll never miss the mess it causes sometimes...like icy roads. Or worse."

"What's the matter, Al? That's doesn't happen all the time. I remember sledding with Tom and Katie. Couldn't do that without snow. And then there were times when it was cold and frosty and Mom would make hot chocolate with marshmallows. I can't tell you how many times I used to look out my window and watch the flakes falling."

"I'm not saying it can't be nice...but there are times it's just not that great. I had a buddy once that got caught in a blizzard. He got snowed in and was in his car for two days under six feet of the stuff. Almost died."

"Ok, yeah. There's such a thing as too much of a good thing. I get that. I don't want to see that kind of stuff happening any more than you do...but now...right now...it's just soft and beautiful and I want to enjoy the memories it brings."

Al looked over to his friend and saw that far-away look he sometimes got. The older man knew that Sam had a much different upbringing than he had had. From the stories he'd heard from Sam and his family, it hadn't been financially easy but the familial love had smoothed over a lot of the rough spots. "Yeah. I guess you're right. I guess this isn't that bad." He looked over to his left and saw a people skating on a rink. "Hey, look, Sam. They have a place to skate here."

"They do?" Sam responded. "When I was here before...playing at the Carnegie...I don't remember it being here. Course that was in August so it probably wasn't open."

"Let's go check it out."

The two men when in the direction of what they now knew was Wollman Rink from the signs. When they got there, they watched the skaters for a while. Then Al noticed they had skate rentals. "You didn't get to go last night. How about today?"

"I thought you said this wasn't your favorite sport."

"It's not," he answered honestly, but before Sam could interject again, he explained. "Like you said last night, though, who knows when we'll get the chance again? Besides, I'm not the only one that's going to be a bit awkward," he pointed out, nodding to a few skaters that obviously were dealing with balance issues.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. Come on, kid. Let's give it a whirl."

Once Sam knew that Al was serious, he warmed to the idea quickly. They went over and bought their tickets, rented their skates, and not too long later were out on the ice.

After a few minutes getting his skating legs back, Sam was speeding around the rink. Al, on the other hand, tended to stay somewhat close to the sides. He kept his eye on Sam, though, and was glad they'd decided to skate. It may not have been his favorite sport but seeing his friend enjoying himself was reason enough to be there. He also noticed a few of the women, some in rather tight or skimpy skating outfits. He was so engaged when Sam skated up to him.

"Hey, Al. You're missing out on the fun of skating."

Surprised by the sudden arrival of his friend, Al nearly emulated Maxine. Only Sam holding him up stopped him from falling to the ice. "Um, I don't think my skating skills are up to going where you do, Kid. I'm glad you're having fun."

"You must really have to focus to stay on your feet, huh," the younger man supposed misinterpreting where Al's eyes had been when he'd skated up to him.

Al had to bite his tongue to keep from telling Sam the truth with that bit of innuendo he attached to his observations of the opposite sex. "Um, yeah. Like I said, not my best sport."

"You want to leave? We don't have to skate for the entire time."

Shaking his head, Al responded, "Whenever you want to leave is fine. Don't worry about me. You're obviously enjoying yourself and after the last few days, it's good for you to relax a bit."

"Ok, didn't want you feeling like you'd been abandoned or anything."

"No. I know you'll be back. Just have fun. I'll be here when you've had your fill."

"I can stay with you for a while until you feel a little steadier," Sam offered still unwilling to leave his friend.

Al waved off the offer. "We might both be old and decrepit before that happens, Kid. Go and have fun. You'll know where to find me."

"Hugging the boards," Sam said with a smile before skating off.

"Wise a..." Al started to say before noticing the scores of children. "Mouth," he finished off instead. He moved closer to the boards and leaned against them, doing his best to stay out of the way, and tracked his friend with his eyes as he moved around the ice. At least twice, Sam stopped to assist a child who had either fallen or was coming close. "Don't ever change, Sammy," Al whispered the second time he saw his friend offer assistance.

Within fifteen minutes, Sam had once again skated over to Al. "You ready to go?" he asked.

"Only if you are," Al responded. Even if skating wasn't the height of enjoyment for him, he didn't want to say or do anything to prompt his friend to leave before he was ready.

As Sam answered, his stomach picked that moment to grumble. "I could eat," he said with a laugh.

"I guess you could," Al agreed laughing as well. "Nice to see you've got your appetite back."

Sam nodded. "Exercise will do that."

"That it will."

The two men made their way to the exit off the ice. After turning in their skates, Al asked Sam if he had a place to eat in mind "Tavern on the Green maybe? You think we can get in?"

"It's worth a try."

They walked to the restaurant which wasn't far from the skating rink. Fortunately for them, there'd been a cancellation and the two were seated at a table. The room was decorated for Christmas and Sam's eyes lit on the poinsettias and holly that graced the room. "They really know how to make it feel like Christmastime. You know, even though I'd prefer being home, this trip hasn't been too bad...even with yesterday's drama."

"Yeah. We've got a lot more to do and see yet. This afternoon's for shopping, remember?"

"How could I forget," Sam said unenthusiastically.

"I thought you wanted to see all the store windows done up for Christmas."

"That's different. That's not shopping. It's just looking," Sam explained as he took a roll from the basket on the table and buttered it. "You know how I feel about shopping though. Kind of like you and skating."

"All we really need is the shirt." He grinned conspiracally. "Besides, if you're good, we can go visit Santa."

"I think I'm a little too old and too big to sit on Santa's lap, don't you?"

"Who said anything about..." Al started but suddenly stopped. He then took a breath and started again. "Yeah. You're right. Still I bet Santa's Village is decorated really nice."

When Al stopped, censoring himself, Sam's brow knit in confusion. He'd only meant to continue, what seemed to him, to be a joke. "What?" he asked hoping his friend would explain what he seemed to have missed.

"I didn't say anything, Sam. I might have started thinking about the Candy Cane girls but I didn't say anything."

"Candy Cane girls?" Sam asked quizzically. "You've lost me. What does that have to do with sitting on Santa's lap?"

"They're at Santa's village. They wear these cute little velvet dresses with..." He stopped again. "Uh uh. You're not going to trip me up. I'm still in the running."

"Oooohhh," Sam said finally clueing into why Al was censoring himself. "Now I get it. I wasn't trying to trip you up. I really didn't know what you were getting at." He looked slightly hurt. "Do you really think I'd do that just to win a bet?"

"Depends on how bad you want to win," Al responded.

"I'd never," Sam protested. "How can you think that?"

"I saw how you and Katie played Trivial Pursuit last Christmas, remember?"

"There's a difference between competitive and cheating," Sam pointed out. "I wouldn't trick you because that would be cheating."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Al responded when he saw that his friend really was hurt by what he'd suggested. If he really thought about it, he knew Sam wasn't the type to trick someone like that.

The waiter came up then taking their orders. It wasn't long after that their food was brought to them.

"I guess skating really worked up an appetite for you," Al commented when he noticed that Sam had cleaned his plate.

"Yeah, I guess so," Sam agreed. He put the last bite in his mouth. "It was really good, though."

"I'd never have guessed," Al answered drolly. For all the kidding, he wasn't that far behind Sam in finishing his lunch.

A short time later, the waiter came back to clear their emptied plates. He brought the dessert menu with him which Sam eagerly looked over.

"Dessert too?" Al joked after the waiter had left to give them time to look the menu over.

"Like you said, skating builds up an appetite." Sam handed the small menu across the table to the other man. "I think I'm going to get the cheesecake. You want anything?"

Al was just reaching across the table to take the menu when they heard a shout from an older man at a nearby table that his wife was choking. As had happened the day before, without thinking, Sam sprang into action, racing to the woman's side and applying the Heimlich maneuver. Once he was sure the food was dislodged, he helped the woman to sit again and crouched by her side checking her pulse.

Al watching his seat as his friend took care of the woman while several waiters and waitresses bustled around them. It didn't surprise him that his friend had reacted as quickly as he did. At least this time, Al reasoned, there was no physical danger to Sam.

Once he was reassured that the woman was ok, Sam rejoined Al at their table.

"You keep this up, Kid, and I'm going to have to get you a cape or something," Al said as Sam sat opposite him.

"Huh?"

"You keep helping people."

"Yeah. So? That's what people are supposed to do. Besides, I'm a doctor. I knew what to do. Should I have let her choke?"

"No. You did the right thing. I guess I'm just saying you're also usually Johnny on the spot. Who knows? In a place like this, you're probably not the only doctor in the house."

"You wouldn't have helped her?" Sam asked, slightly shocked by his friend's response. "I can't believe you'd expect anyone to wait. I mean, what if there wasn't anyone else there? What if my action was the only chance she had?" His response was flowing with justified intensity.

"Calm down, Sam," Al asked quietly, noticing that some around them where looking over to the table. "It was just a comment. I already said, you did the right thing. I apologize if it sounded like I was being unsympathetic to the plights of the people you've helped. That's not what I intended."

Sam also caught that there were people glancing in their direction and made a point to drop the level of his voice. "I know, Al. I guess...I don't know what I guess."

"It's ok, Kid." Again Al looked around. This time he saw that no one was looking in their direction any longer. "You gotta admit, this has been one heck of an exciting trip."

"I was starting to think it was kind of normal for us."

"You may have something there, Sam," Al agreed with a quick chuckle. "I guess if it were quiet with nothing happening that would be a little odd." Nodding to the dessert menu that had been left on the table, he asked, "Still want that cheesecake?"

"Yeah. Sounds good". When the waiter came back, they made their order, Al getting the cheesecake as well.

Once it was brought, Al took a bite. "There's nothing like a good New York cheesecake."

Sam agreed and the two thoroughly enjoyed their desserts. When the check wasn't delivered, Sam called the waiter over to ask for it.

"Your check has been taken care of, sir."

"How?" He looked at Al. "You set this up?"

"Mr. Sanders, the husband of the woman you helped from chocking, said it was the least he could do to thank you."

Sam looked over to the table where the Sander's had been and saw they had left. "Did they just leave?" Sam asked as he started to get up. "I'd like to thank them."

"They left about ten minutes ago. I don't think you'll be able to catch them."

Sam nodded and sat back down. "I wish we could have thanked them," he said to Al when the waiter had left.

"I'm not sure there was much more thanks you could have given them than saving her life, Sam. I'm sure that means more to them than anything you could have said."

Again, Sam nodded. He didn't see the big deal everyone else was seeing in what he'd done. He couldn't just sit and let the woman choke to death. He was sure anyone else would have done the same thing as well.

There were a few moments of silence between the two men that Al eventually broke. "So, I guess it's time to do a little shopping now, huh? We can go see those windows you were telling me about and stop in Macy's to get you a shirt for tomorrow and something for tonight."

"Tonight?" Sam asked as he got up from the table. "What about tonight."

"Your end of the bet," Al reminded as he too got up. "Remember. A couple of clubs a little dancing. We didn't go last night."

"I was trying really hard to forget," Sam said with a small groan.

"Well, I didn't and you need something to wear tonight. Since we're going shopping anyways, you might as well get something more appropriate for going out."

"Can't we just put it off 'til we get back to New Mexico?" Sam asked as he pulled on his coat. "What if it's crowded and someone bangs into my arm and opens the stitches?" Normally, he wouldn't use an injury as an excuse not to do something nor would he play on Al's sympathies but, in this instance, he was willing to take whatever he could get. "I really don't want to get an infection in there like what happened in the past. You know how uncomfortable that was."

Al considered Sam's request. He didn't want his friend hurt anymore but something about the way it was said gave him pause. "If the clubs are too crowded, we won't go in. Besides, if that happens, I know a few jazz joints that we could still enjoy some live music that should be ok."

Sam tilted his head slightly. "You really want to go out tonight, don't you?"

Shrugging, the older man concurred. "Yeah. I do. It's not like the night spots in Alamogordo are all that hopping and who knows when we'll be back in the Big Apple."

"You could always go alone. I can stay back at the hotel."

"And what fun would that be? Seriously, Sam, it's not going to be that bad. I know you're not hot on clubbing and I promise the places I have in mind won't be akin to the seven rings of hell for you."

"No. Just the first couple," Sam grumbled as he followed Al to the door. As he walked by the waiter who'd waited on them and the hostess, he wished them both a merry Christmas."

"Hey, if you just want to throw in the towel on your end of the bet, I'd be happy to set up a date for you with a very lovely lady." Al grinned evilly at his friend. "It's your choice."

"I'm not willing to give in," he said as he moved to the taxi stand. "Even though I won't try to trip you up, you're going to lose this bet."

"No. I'm not. You will. After all, you're already trying to change the bet"

"I'm not trying to change it," Sam said stubbornly.

"Ok...so offering to go out in Alamogordo isn't changing the deal?"

Sam sighed. "I'll go tonight." A taxi pulled up and the two men got in. "Macy's," the younger man directed.

As they drove to the store there was again sightseeing from the younger man at the various storefronts and decorations. "They sure know how to decorate for Christmas," he commented rhetorically. When they arrived at the store, he was eager to get out.

"I thought you don't like to shop," Al observed, paying for the cab before following Sam out.

"This isn't really shopping. I mean, it is since I have to get a new shirt but that's not a problem. I just like seeing all of this."

Al smiled at the childlike joy his friend found in the season. "Ok. Lead on. I'm right behind ya."

They walked into the store, where the decorations again received an approving grade from the physicist. Al suggested that they get the shirt first so the rest of the day would be free. Sam agreed and they went to menswear. He just wanted to pick up a regular packaged shirt but Al suggested a French cuff shirt which would look especially nice with the Armani. Sam balked at first but was eventually convinced.

Next Al reminded his friend that they need something for that night. Sam stood firm in rejecting a number of the outfits Al suggested. He finally agreed on a pair of black trousers, a green shirt, and a leather jacket after Al pointed out that all of these would work with what he had back home. With those chores taken care of, Al asked, "Ok, where to now?"

"I don't know," Sam responded with a shrug. "You got any ideas?"

"Well, you wanted to do window shopping. You want to walk through the rest of Macy's first or just go out and see what else there is to see."

"I'm done shopping." Sam stated firmly. "I'd rather just go outside and walk and see what there is to see." He looked down at the bag he was carrying. "I guess we should have saved the shopping for last."

"Well, look at it this way; once you're ready to go back, we have everything."

"I guess so." Sam started walking in the direction of the escalator to take them down to street level. "Well, let's go."

"Ok." Al followed. He saw the sign that indicated where Santaland was. "You want to check that out?"

"Sure," Sam agreed when he saw the sign his friend had pointed out.

A few minutes later, they reached the children's wonderland although the decorations were spectacular. "Wow. This is really something."

"Yeah," the younger man replied, his eyes drinking in the sight.

Al went over to the attendant. After a moment talking he came back. "You can use your camera, here."

"Really? Great." He took out his camera and the two walked along with other patrons through the area. It was definitely much more elaborate that other department stores that Sam had seen before. It took them awhile to get through the display. Since Sam was taking pictures, Al held the bag with the new clothes. When they were finished, Sam took back the bag with a grin on his face that showed how happy he was. "That was every bit as good as what I'd heard about."

"So you're ready to go?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

They took the elevator down from the eighth floor to the ground level. After leaving Macy's, they walked up to Fifth Avenue and began to walk in the direction of Central Park. Along the way, they stopped to admire the window displays at Lord & Taylor, and Saks. Both times, Sam would hand the bag from Macy's to Al so he could take some photos of the displays.

When they were done looking at the Saks' windows, they noticed they were across the street from Rockefeller Center. Sam said he wanted to same photos of it in the daytime so they crossed over.

After walking around Rockefeller Center for about thirty minutes, Sam had taken as many photos as he wanted. By this time the bag from Macy's had taken up permanent residence in Al's hand. "Why don't we stop in there and get something hot to drink," Al suggested pointing to one of the elevators that led down to the underground concourse.

"I wouldn't mind warming up for a while," Sam agreed.

Al led the way to the elevator. Once they were inside, the spotted a small bakery not too far from the entrance. After getting cups of coffee, they sat at one of the tables with a window view of the skating rink. Fifteen minutes later, they'd finished their coffee and headed back out.

When they were back on Fifth Avenue, Sam pointed out St. Patrick's Cathedral across the street. He was about to suggest that it might be interesting to see the inside but sensed a reluctance on Al's part. He didn't want to pressure his friend into doing something he wasn't comfortable with so, instead, he contented himself with some shots of the outside.

They continued up Fifth Avenue, stopping at Bergdorf Goodman to admire how the windows had been decorated there. "I'm out of film," Sam said as he took a last photo of the windows. He looked in his camera bag and realized he hadn't brought the other rolls of film with him. "I'm really out of film."

"That's too bad, Kid. I'm sure there's someplace around here where you can get more."

"It's ok," Sam said. "Maybe we should head back to the hotel now.

"You sure? I think there are still Barney's and Bloomingdales that we haven't gotten to yet.

"It's ok," Sam reassured. "If you really want to go out tonight, we should probably start heading back."

"Sounds like a plan to me. It's been a good day but I'd like to take a break for a while."

"A break would be nice." Sam stepped to the curb and raised his arm to hail a passing cab. "I really don't feel like walking or taking the subway down to the PATH station." Once a cab stopped, he got in followed by Al. Due to the traffic, it took almost twenty-five minutes to cover the distance to World Trade Center where the station was.

"I didn't realize how far we walked," Sam commented when they crossed Thirty-fourth Street. "No wonder I'm tired."

Al nodded. "Yeah. It was a good hike. Probably burned off that cheesecake from lunch for sure."

"Yeah, that and some. I was thinking…no forget it." He reached up and rubbed at his neck a pained look on his face.

"Forget what?"

"Nothing. It's nothing," Sam responded with a quick shake of his head.

Al gave Sam a pointed look. "No it's not. I hear it in your voice, kid. What is it?

"I was just going to ask if we could go out tomorrow night instead. That's all. I know what you're going to say, though, so just forget it. Let's just get it done and over with."

Al thought about Sam's being tired. They had done a lot between the early morning, the ice skating, and the window shopping. He was looking forward to going out and wasn't tired, but Sam was getting over another injury. He decided it wouldn't hurt to go the following night other than Sam would want to be in early. "Listen, you give me tomorrow evening until eleven pm. and you're on. I'm a little beat myself," he lied.

"Really?" Sam asked surprised that his friend had acquiesced to his request. "You really don't mind putting it off 'til tomorrow?"

"Like I said, we've had a busy day." He paused, "How's your arm feeling?"

At the reminder of his arm, Sam flexed it slightly. "It's kind of sore right now. I guess I used it a little more than I probably should have."

"Yeah. Probably," Al agreed to Sam's self-assessment. "We get a good night's sleep, though, and take it a bit easier tomorrow and it'll feel better."

"I guess so."

The two men lapsed into silence and, a few minutes later, they pulled up to the station. This time Sam took care of the cab fare. "I hope we don't have to wait long," he said as they walked into the station and paid their fare.

"I hope not either." He paused. "So, what do you say, tonight just take it easy? Maybe get a deck of cards or something?"

"That sounds…," Sam started to say but a yawn cut him off before he finished with, "…like a good idea."

"You are beat," Al noted.

"I guess so." The men went down the escalator to the platform to wait for the train back to Jersey City. They didn't have long to wait before one arrived. Five minutes later, the train pulled into Exchange Place. A couple of minutes after that and they were walking into the hotel.

Al had taken the Macy's bag. He noticed Sam sort of moving on automatic. It didn't surprise him. Often, in the past, he'd noticed how Sam would tend to crash after a period of stress. Although there still might be the meeting with the Millennium Group on Thursday, the stress of the yesterday's presentation was behind him. "You're beat," Al said again. "Why don't we just order up room service tonight?"

"That sounds good." Sam hadn't told Al but when they'd made the stop at Rockefeller Center, he'd taken one of the painkillers he'd been prescribed for his arm while the other man was in the restroom. It probably contributed to why he was feeling so tired now.

The two made their way to their room. When they got there, Al took both of their coats to hang up while Sam took the bag into his room. After hanging up the shirt as well as the clothes Al had made him buy to go out in, Sam grabbed the book he'd brought with him to read and went out to settle on the couch. He probably should have done a little more work polishing the proposal for Thursday but didn't feel like he could keep his mind on it right.

"You know what you want?" Al asked bringing the room service menu over Sam.

Shaking his head, Sam took the menu and looked over it. "The mac and cheese sounds good," he said as he handed the menu back.

Al took the menu back and placed the call to room service. While he did, Sam went back to his bedroom to get the book he'd brought with him to read. Coming back into the common room, he stretched out on the couch and began to read.

Fifteen minutes after calling in their dinner orders, there was a knock on the door. Al gave a cursory glance to Sam but it looked like he was too engrossed in his book to hear the knock. Getting up, he shook his head as he opened the door and had the man set it up on the small dinette table. After taking care of the check and closing the door, he called, "Dinner, Sam."

"Uh huh," Sam responded without looking up from his book or moving to get off the couch.

Al waited a bit to see if the younger man was going to come over but it didn't look likely that he was going to move. He was ready to announce dinner again but shook his head instead. It would likely do no good. He knew that when Sam got caught up in reading, it could take a nuclear detonation to get his attention. Instead, he uncovered the two plates, picked up Sam's and took it and the Diet Coke he ordered for him over to where Sam was sitting. He leaned over his friend to set the drink down on the windowsill where it would be in easy reach then took the book from Sam's hand.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Sam protested when his book disappeared. "I'm reading that."

"Dinner," Al said again with raised eyebrows as he handed Sam the plate to replace the book he'd taken. "I thought you might like to eat it before it got cold."

"Dinner?" Sam questioned taking the plate that was handed to him. "I didn't hear anyone come."

Al grinned at Sam's statement and shook his head slightly. "You don't say. I hadn't noticed that you didn't hear." He went back to the dining room table to get his grilled Portobello sandwich and drink and came back over to the couch. He put his drink down on the coffee table then tapped Sam's ankle for room.

Sam immediately pulled his legs up so he was sitting cross-legged on the couch with his back braced against the arm facing his friend. "I guess I was caught up in my book."

Al gave the book he'd put on the coffee table a cursory glance. "_Misery,_" he read off the cover. "What is it with you and these Steven King books? Don't they give you the heebie jeebbies?"

Sam also looked over to the book and shrugged. "It's just fiction," he said before putting a forkful of his dinner in his mouth. "It's not like anyone would actually do that," he continued speaking around the food in his mouth.

"Swallow," Al suggested before Sam said anything else. "I know your mother taught you better than to talk with your mouth full." He took a long look at Sam sitting cross-legged on the couch; plate of food balanced on one knee and grinned slightly. "If she could see you now." He knew as well as Sam that if Thelma Beckett were there she wouldn't tolerate her son eating anywhere but at the table much less talking with his mouth full.

Sam gave his friend a goofy grin. "I've got you here to make sure I stay on the straight and narrow."

"Yeah." For not the first time in the last couple of days, LoNigro's words rang clear. The concept still bothered him both ways. One, he knew his friend was rather spontaneous at time, facing consequences that simply hadn't occurred to him before he acted. Sometimes those consequences weren't so hot, like his current injury. Al wanted to minimize those situations...but he didn't like to think he was 'controlling' Sam either. "I'm not that bad, am I?"

"What? About reminding me to use my 'company manners'?" Sam asked clearly not guessing where Al's thoughts were.

Al allowed the misconception to stay and merely nodded his head.

"I wouldn't say you're too bad although you do still get a little steamed if the bathroom isn't up to what you consider perfect. You'd think by now that wouldn't bother you."

"And you'd think by now you wouldn't leave it looking like a hurricane blew through," Al quickly shot back. "I've seen how your mother keeps her house so I know at some point she taught you how to hang a towel. I just can't understand why that never stuck with you."

Sam opened his mouth for an answer but, instead, quickly grabbed the napkin Al had handed him with his plate and sneezed into it.

Hearing the sneeze, Al looked closely at Sam. "You getting sick?"

"It's a sneeze," Sam patiently explained as he balled up the napkin. "Just a simple sneeze. It happens to everyone from time to time."

"It does but it seems like when it happens to you it turns into something besides a simple little sneeze. I just want to know what I should be prepared for."

"There's nothing to be prepared for." Sam put the dish down on the coffee table and got up to put the napkin in the trashcan. "You're acting like I just passed out on you or something," he said as he came back to the couch.

Al shrugged. "I guess I've just been conditioned...like Pavlov's dog or something. You've got to admit you have more than your share of incidents."

"Incidents? I've had a few situations that have been out of the ordinary and I've gotten sick a few times. You make it sound like I'm some kind of basket case."

"That's not what I said."

"Maybe not but it sure sounds like it."

Al sighed. "Listen, just forget it. I know you're not a basket case. I just hope you didn't pick something up, ok? Wouldn't be good to give it to anyone else."

"I know you had to have an ulterior motive," Sam said as he picked up his plate and started eating again. He'd only taken a bit or two when he put the plate down and got up. Going over to the trash can, he took the napkin he's put in it out. "I just realized I probably shouldn't throw this away."

"They might want it back," Al agreed. "If you need them, not saying you will, just pointing it out, there's a box of tissues in the bathroom."

"I know where the Kleenex is, Al."

"I know. Geez you're touchy tonight."

"I'm not touchy. I'm just..." Another sneeze burst out of Sam. "Maybe I'm allergic to something in here," he said before his friend had a chance to comment. "You know, the cleaner or something that they used."

"I guess that's possible...but why haven't you been sneezing before? We've been here a couple of days."

"Because," Sam started to say then put another bit of food in his mouth. "Maybe I'm getting a cold," he mumbled around it. Once he swallowed, he shrugged. "I can't beat your logic."

Realizing they'd just come full circle with Sam talking with food in his mouth, Al shook his head. "Well, drink lots of water then."

"'Cause that'll cure it," Sam said with a roll of his eyes. "And what was the little head shake for and don't say 'nothing.' I know that's a classic Al Calavicci, 'I'm gonna think it and not say it' head shake."

"I was just noticing you were talking with your mouth full again."

Sam hesitated, the fork halfway to his mouth. "I guess I was. I didn't really think about it." He let out a little chuckle. "You really do make sure I use my 'company manners'."

"Like I said, your mother would have a fit."

"Not a fit. She'd just say my full name with that certain tone only she can get then say, 'Didn't I raise you better than that?' Then she'd look disappointed."

"For your mother, that's as close to a fit as I've ever seen her." His eyes took a distance as he recalled his first meeting with her and her questions about the man who'd almost killed her son. He couldn't help to think what would have happened if this most recent injury had been as bad. "Usually."

"If you think that's mom having a fit, I wonder what you'd think of what it was when she caught me smoking Dad's cigarettes in the barn."

"Getting on your mother's bad side isn't a good place to go. I know that. Out of curiosity, though, what'd she do...and how old were you?"

"I was ten. I snuck in the barn with an almost empty pack of Dad's cigarettes. I still have no idea why Mom even came into the barn but she caught me in one of the stalls getting ready to light up. Let's just say all hell broke loose after that."

"You can't leave it there, Kid. What'd she do?"

Sam heaved a sigh knowing he wasn't getting out of this. After all, he'd been the one to open this particular can of worms. "After screaming my name...my full name...and asking me how stupid I could be to be playing with matches in the barn and did I want to burn the place down? She dragged me out of the stall by the strap on my overalls, took me out in the front yard, made me sit on a stump there and smoke one of the cigarettes...right up 'til I got I got sick."

"Huh. Explains a lot of things." Al said. "I'm glad the nuns didn't find out about me. I'd probably hate cigars now."

"Makes me wonder how you can smoke them...or how Dad could smoke." A shudder ran through Sam at the long ago memory. "That was one of the most disgusting things I ever did."

"How'd your father react to the situation?"

"Told Mom she'd wasted a perfectly good cigarette...then told me if he ever found out I'd been 'experimenting' again, he'd tan my hide. There was no way I was ever going to touch a cigarette again after that. I didn't want to get sick again."

"Don't blame you there." Al had been eating during the convo and now finished the last bite of his sandwich. "That was just about perfect. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go outside and enjoy an after dinner cigar."

Sam took another bit of his dinner then handed the plate to Al. "You mind putting this on the tray? I'm done with it." Knowing his friend would say something when he saw that about a third of the food was still there, he decided to head him off at the pass. "It wasn't that great. I'd rather just plain ol' mac and cheese and not the fancy gourmet four cheese and tomato variety."

"I think being raised in farm country limited your desire for experiential food."

"Huh?" Sam asked not quite sure what his friend meant. He shook his head and held up a hand before he could explain. "I like plain and simple and there's nothing wrong with that and there's nothing wrong with growing up on a farm. Now, go have your cigar and I'm going to get back into my book."

"Ok, Kid." Al took the plate from Sam and put it, along with his, back on the room service tray. "See you in a bit," he said before picking up his cigar and his coat and heading outside to enjoy the vice that Sam had more or less accepted was part of the package.

Sam watched Al leave the room and was just about to open the book and get back to where he was when he noticed the room service tray was still on the dinette table. Tossing the book back to the coffee table, he got up to put the tray outside the door. As he came back into the room, a few more sneezes burst out of him. "I'm not getting sick," he said with finality as he settled back with his book.

When Al came back to the room forty-five minutes later, he would have sworn Sam hadn't moved from the spot he'd left him in except for the fact that the room service tray was outside the door, his friend now had on the sweatpants and t-shirt he was using for pajamas with the zip up sweatshirt on over the t-shirt, and the box of tissues had found its way from the bathroom to the windowsill where Sam could easily reach it.

Sam was so engrossed in the book; Al didn't think he'd heard him come in. As he approached the couch, he was given a surprise when Sam proved he did know what was going on around him.

"I'm fine and if you decide to 'mom' me anymore and check to see if I have a fever the way she does, I swear I'll slug ya," Sam stated matter-of-factly without looking up from the book.

Al had started to pull his hand up to check for a fever now dropped it suddenly, knowing that Sam hadn't seen it. He just knew Al that well. "Um. No need for that. Thanks for putting the tray out. I was going to do it when I got back."

"Yeah. Ok," Sam responded back into his book.

Al sat down in the chair and picked up the cable listing. "Hey, _City Slicker's_ is coming up. Jack Palance is a hoot in that. You want to watch?"

"Uh huh," Sam answered distracted. He flipped a page, glanced up at Al and added to his previous warning, "She used to kiss our forehead and feel the back of our necks and if you ever try to do that, I'll do more than just slug you." The threat of physical violence was accompanied by a grin.

Al chuckled. "Oh really. And just what would you do?" He turned on the TV.

"I'll just assume you've forgotten I have a couple of black belts."

"I haven't forgotten. Fact is, I wouldn't blame you...not that's its even remotely going to be tested."

"That's good to know," Sam said as he returned to his book once more. "I don't suppose while you were out there smoking you might have taken a walk and gotten us something to snack on, did you?"

"Um...no. I can run down to the gift shop and pick up a couple of candy bars."

"I'd rather have popcorn." Sam put the book down so he could see Al and turned his most innocent look on him. "You know, I'd go see if I could find some but you probably don't want me going out into the cold if I'm getting a cold and all."

"You know, one day your face is going to stick that way and then what are you gonna do," Al said, knowing of only one woman that could resist those sad eyes.

"I don't know what you mean?" Sam maintained the same innocent look.

"Yeah right," Al said getting up. "Ok, ok. Turn off the brights. I'm going. I think they sell microwave popcorn in the gift shop too."

"Thanks," Sam said with a wide grin. "I'll owe you one."

"Uh huh," Al said as he reached the door. "Be right back."

"I'll be here."

Al didn't respond as he walked out. It was about ten minutes before he was back and the movie credits were just starting to roll across the small screen. Al had a medium sized bag in his arms. "I got chocolate, popcorn, and soft drinks. We should be set for the evening."

"Sounds like it." Sam saw the size of the bag Al was carrying. "There's only two of us, you know."

"Yeah. I know, but I figured better too much than too little."

"I guess so." Sam grabbed a tissue from the box and held it to his nose as he let out a sneeze. "Remind me to get another box of these tomorrow. These feel like sandpaper."

"Will do." Al sat down in the chair, watching the start of the movie while pulling things out of the bag and putting them on the table. He put the small three bag box of popcorn in front of Sam. "I figured you can do the honors for these." Next out of the bag was another small box of cold meds. "And I figured I should get a box of these, just in case."

"I'm not going to need them," Sam stated firmly. "But thanks." He picked up the box of popcorn, looked at it then set it back down. "I'll make it in a little while."

"Ok. Like I said. Just in case." He pulled out a can of diet coke and one of root beer. "Just like at home."

Sam accepted the can held out to him. "Sort of but now quite. There's no cat curled up in my lap. I don't think I ever really thought about it before but he makes a pretty good blanket."

"It's cause you feed him too much. Cat's not supposed to be that big," Al said with a grin.

"He's not that big," Sam defended the absent cat. "Last time he was at the vet his weight was fine. I was just saying how he's warm and you're calling him fat."

"He covers your lap, kid."

"He does not," Sam said firmly, "And I'm not going to debate that. I told you, the vet said he was fine the weight he is."

"Ok. Sorry."

"Not me you should apologize to. You'll owe Comet one when we get home."

Al rolled his eyes. "Right. Apologize to the cat."

"Ok, so maybe not apologize but stop calling him Fat Cat."

"Ok. No more Fat Cat jokes. Read your book."

"Aye aye, Sir," Sam responded with a jaunty salute.

Al only shook his head at his friend's antics. The kid was definitely in a good mood tonight.

The two men sat quietly watching TV and reading. After a half hour, Al realized that although Sam had asked for snacks - the popcorn specifically - it was going to take a bomb to get him off the couch to make the popcorn. He'd gotten so wrapped up in the book, he didn't seem interested in anything else.

Al waited another ten minutes but when Sam still hadn't moved except to turn a page, he grabbed one of the packages of popcorn and took it to the microwave. Once it was popped, he brought it back to Sam and put it on the couch by him. "Thanks," the younger man mumbled as he grabbed a handful of the fluffy kernels to put in his mouth.

"Don't mention it," Al replied as he took a handful and sat in the chair.

The rest of the night was spent in companionable silence between the two men as Sam was engrossed in his book and Al watched TV.

As the eleven o'clock news finished, Al stretched and turned off the TV. "I think I going to head to bed," he told the younger man.

Sam looked up from the book. He'd read more than half of it and still didn't want to put it down. "Have a good night, Al."

"You too, Kid, and don't forget to go to bed."

"I'm not going to forget to go to bed," Sam responded with an eye roll. "Geesh."

"Oh yeah...I've never come downstairs in the morning and found you sacked out on the couch. Just don't forget tonight, ok."

"I won't. Now go to bed." Once the other man had left the room, Sam settled down to do a little more reading before going to bed. When he finally looked up to see what time it was, it was nearly one thirty - time for him to do as Al had done and head for bed as well. He tossed the book on the coffee table. When he did, it slid into the box of cold medicine Al had bought earlier. He picked it up and looked at it for a few seconds debating whether he should take it before putting it down next to the book. Taking it would mean giving in and admitting he was getting a cold - or that he had one - and he wasn't going to do that.

He got up from the couch and went to the bedroom he was using. When he got to the doorway, he gave a backwards look to the box on the coffee table, shook his head, and resolutely went into the room closing the door firmly behind him. All he needed was a good night's sleep.

Taking off the sweatshirt, he dropped it on the foot of the bed, climbed under the blankets, and burrowed his head into the pillow. It had been a good day today and he hoped tomorrow would be equally as good.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Light was peeking around the closed curtains when Sam opened his eyes the next morning. Wondering what time it was, he lifted his head enough to see the bedside clock. Although some would consider seven forty-five to be early, for him, it was late. He stretched, pushed the blankets down, sat up, and stretched again. He'd slept solidly through the night and, with the rest, felt better than he had before going to bed.

He sat back against the pillows for a moment thinking. Al had said he was going to sleep in this morning and Sam didn't doubt he'd do just that. He also knew that meant Al would be up later than he was. That meant he couldn't take a shower until later since he'd need his friend's help in wrapping up the wound on his arm so it wouldn't get wet.

Getting up, he made his way from the bedroom to the bathroom. After heeding the call of nature, he faced the mirror and decided he was hungry and didn't want to wait 'til Al got up to eat but there was still the issue with the shower. He couldn't very well go into the restaurant downstairs looking the way he was and he didn't want room service either. He decided that he could run over to the bakery across from the PATH station and get something there.

After running a comb through his hair, washing his face, and brushing his teeth, he decided he looked presentable enough for the quick errand. Going back into the bedroom, he grabbed socks and put them on as well as his sneakers then pulled the sweatshirt back on. Going back to the common room, he got his new leather jacket, made sure he had his room card, then went out in search of food.

Fifteen minutes later he was back. Whistling a soft tune, he shifted the bag in his arms so he could get a better grip on it and the cup holder he was carrying and unlocked the door. Stepping in, he noticed that the door to Al's room was still closed with no light showing under it. There was no noise coming from the bathroom. "Still sleeping," he whispered.

He put the bag and the cup carrier on the dinette table then took off his jacket and hung it in the closet. Going back to the table, he opened the bag and pulled a muffin from it. He'd gotten a selection of muffins, bagels and other breakfast pastries. It was more than Al and he would need this morning but whatever they didn't eat now would keep until later.

He checked the two cups and took the one marked 'tea' out of the holder and left the coffee for Al. He'd debated getting the beverage for his friend. It was likely that, by the time Al woke up, it would be too cold but Sam didn't want him to think he'd forgotten about him. Besides, maybe Al would surprise him and get up before it was cold.

Taking his breakfast with him, he went to the couch and took up the spot he'd been occupying the night before. Picking up his book, he flipped to the page he'd left off at and was soon engrossed in it.

He'd finished the muffin and was thinking about getting something else to eat when he heard movement coming from behind the closed bedroom door right before it opened. "It lives," he joked when Al shuffled out.

"Oh ha ha. Funny man," Al stated as he walked into the room. "Did you even make it to bed or did you just sack out on the couch?"

"I went to bed. What makes you think I didn't?"

"Because there's nothing to tell me you didn't stay out on the couch. You do it enough at home when you're wrapped up in a book.""

"And there's nothing to tell you I did."

"True enough. Well, if you did go to bed, why..." he asked, emphasizing the questioning word, "did you get up so early? I thought you were going to sleep late."

Sam marked his place in the book and put it down since it didn't seem he was going to get anymore reading done right now. "I did sleep late. I didn't get up 'til seven forty-five. That's late.

"Says you," Al said as a yawn took over his face. He then noticed the two take out cups as well as the pastries. "And you've already been out? When did you do that?"

"After I got up. I got you some coffee but I think it might be cold by now. I thought you might like something when you got up." Sam got up to get another pastry from the bag. "And that's not early. I usually get up at five forty-five."

"Yeah. I know." The older man checked the coffee and wrinkled his nose. "Lukewarm. I should be able to heat it up in the microwave though."

"I figured that would happen but I didn't want you to think I forgot about you." Sam took an apple turnover from the bag and went back to his place on the couch.

Al nodded. "Thanks." He went over and got one of the coffee mugs left on the tray by the coffee maker. Pouring part of the contents of the take out cup in, he heated the coffee and then came over to the sitting area and put the mug down on the table. Picking up the bag, his eyebrows rose. "Just how many people were you planning on feeding this morning?"

"I didn't know what you'd want so I wanted to get a variety. Besides, I thought whatever we didn't eat now we could just save for later."

"Makes sense." Al took a chocolate covered donut. "So what do you want to do today?"

"I don't know. I thought we could just sort of do whatever. You know. Be spontaneous. You always tell me I'm not."

"Yeah. Ok. You did want to go to the Statue of Liberty today though, right? Still want to do that?"

"Sure. We can start with that and see where else we end up."

"That works." The phone rang and Al went to answer it. After a few minutes, he hung up with an "ok, see you then." That was Sal. He said he'll bring the suit by at five thirty today. He wants you to try it on to make sure everything's good."

"Ok." Putting down the book Sam asked, "Think you can wrap my arm? I'd like to get a shower."

"Yeah, sure." Al started to walk away to get the roll of cling wrap and tape but turned back to Sam realizing something for the first time. "You had to go out to get the food and coffee. You went out in your pajamas? Correct me if I'm wrong but aren't you the one who's scandalized if I get the mail wearing my bathrobe?"

"That's different," Sam pointed out.

"Different how?" Al asked crossing his arms over his chest. "Different because it's you and not me?"

"No. Different because what I have on doesn't look like pajamas. Lots of people wear sweats and t-shirts out on a daily basis. That's how it's different."

"And lots of people get the mail wearing their bathrobes. You can rational this all you want, Dr. Beckett but the fact is, you play by different rules sometimes."

"No, I don't, Admiral Calavicci," Sam disagreed. "I'm wearing clothes that are designed for day to day wear. Bathrobes and pajamas are not designed to wear out."

"Stand up, Sam."

"What?"

"You heard me. Stand up."

Unsure of why Al wanted him to stand, Sam did so none-the-less. "Ok, I'm standing. Now what."

In answer to the question, Al leaned around Sam so he could see his backside. "Nice red and white polka dot boxers you have on." He leaned back to face his friend. "I can' see 'em through the tear."

Sam immediately dropped his hand to his backside and felt the tear his friend was talking about. At the realization that the sweatpants he had on had seen better days and that he'd gone out in them, he turned red in the face. "Oh boy," he muttered as he dropped back to the couch. "I forgot about that."

"Yeah. At least in my bathrobe I'm not showing off my backside to people I don't want to see it. Add to that, I wouldn't go shopping in the bathrobe, I only get the mail. So, different rules."

Sam thought for a moment, trying to put together a good comeback. Finally, he just replied, "I plead no contest."

"There. You admit it."

"I do nothing of the kind. I'm just choosing not to continue to participate in an apples and oranges comparison. I shouldn't have gone out in these and I did. I admit that. Different rules, uh uh."

"Right," Al finished. "You are a stubborn mule sometimes."

"Takes one to know one," Sam quickly responded back.

The older man, realizing this wasn't going to be resolved in a back and forth looked away for a few moments. He knew once Sam had decided on a stance and had dug his heels in, a nuclear blast couldn't dislodge that stance. He might feel that the kid sometimes took a different tack when an issue affected his direction than when it was someone else's issue but in the scheme of things, arguing about the appropriateness of clothing was really a waste of time. "Whatever," he responded, leaving the disagreement alone. "You said you need your arm wrapped. Let's get that taken care of."

Sam's gut response at hearing Al drop the issue by his tone was to call him on it but realized he'd done much the same thing - to deescalate the argument - with his plea of no contest. He realized he was reacting to Al's retreat more than the issue of choice of attire. He knew Al would use that tactic at various times if he didn't think the issue at hand was important or if he felt continuing would get him nowhere. It annoyed him when Al did it. He admitted, though, that regardless of which reason Al was retreating, it wasn't worth pursuing. "Yeah. The sooner we do, the sooner we can do some more sightseeing."

With the argument shelved by both men the rest of the morning went smoothly. Sam even watched how he left the bathroom to leave it a bit tidier than he might otherwise. Before long they were out and enjoying the sights around the city.

It was nearly five thirty when the two men returned to the hotel room. As the door opened, Al was laughing. "Really, you should have seen the look on your face."

"I don't think it's funny," Sam grumped as he followed his friend into the room. "I'm afraid of heights. That's a very real fear, you know."

Al tried to control his laughter for his friend's sake. "I know it is, Sam, and I'm not laughing at that. It's just that you took one look out that window and I thought you were going to go into a corner, suck your thumb and ask for your mommy."

At the description, Sam had to fight the smile that tried to come. "I told you going up to the top of the Statue of Liberty wasn't a good idea.

One more chuckle escaped from Al as he held out his hand for his friend's coat. "I know, Kid, and next time, I promise I'll listen to you. You can't beat that view, though."

"I'll have to take your word for it." Sam flopped down on the couch. "I'm beat. I can't believe how much we walked today once we got back in Manhattan." He toed off his sneakers and propped his feet up on the table. He began to tick off all the places they'd been that day. "Aside from the Statue of Liberty we went to the UN building, Federal Hall, saw the bull that's not on Wall Street, walked around Battery Park, went down to the seaport area." He stopped and looked at his friend. "Am I missing anything?"

"I think that about covers it all, Kid. Of course, we still have the main event tonight so don't get too comfortable, there."

Sam let out a theatrical groan. "How could I forget about that?" He checked the time on his watch. "I guess if we want to grab some dinner first, we shouldn't hang around here too much." He got up from the couch and leaned down to pick up his discarded sneakers. "I think I'm going to take another shower before I get changed

Before Al could answer, there was a knock at the door. Sam went to see who it was and smiled when he saw the Italian tailor at the door holding his altered suit. "Hi Sal. Come on in."

The man stepped into the room. "Hello. I've got your suit, Sam. I'd like to have you try it on to make sure I've taken care of everything."

"Sure," Sam said, taking the suit and going into this room to change.

"Thanks for all this, Sal. We appreciate your quick turnaround," Al told the tailor.

"For a friend like you, anything. By the way, we got a letter from Angelo yesterday. He's doing well at Annapolis."

.

Al smiled. Angelo was Sal's grandson. He'd written a letter of recommendation and the boy had received an appointment to enter the academy earlier that year. "Glad to hear it. Plebe year can be difficult. Angelo's going to make a fine officer."

The door to Sam's room opened and he'd walked out wearing the suit.

Sal answered Al's compliment of his grandson. "Like you."

"It took a while, but I think I turned out ok," Al responded with a smile

Not knowing what the conversation was about, Sam didn't comment. Instead, he referred to the suit. "Feel's great."

"Looks great," Al provided.

Sal was eyeing the suit with an educated eye. "Turn around."

The younger man did as he was told. Sal checked a few things before nodding, satisfied with his work. "You definitely have a suit that works well with your physique. I can understand why you wanted it altered."

Sam shrugged slightly. "I just need a suit that fits. Al seems to think this one's a good one."

"Al's got good taste. Suit like that is an investment," the tailor noted. "Well, I've got to go. Magdalena will have supper waiting and it's never good to be late. I hope your meeting goes well."

Al and Sam thanked the man once more before saying their goodbyes. Sal made them promise the next time they came to town they'd plan on dinner at his house and then he left.

"Why'd you let him think I'm the one who picked out the suit?" Al asked as he closed the door behind Sal. "You owned that before you met me."

"I didn't do that. I just answered what he said about getting it altered. I could have just told him I let a salesman tell me what I should buy but I'd like to forget about what I was trying to do then."

"Ok," Al said with a nod. He understood what Sam's reasons were when he'd originally bought the Zegna as well as the closet full of other "power suits." Al didn't like the idea of the person Sam tried to turn himself into any more than his friend did and if he wanted to forget about that, it was ok with him.

The phone rang and Sam answered it. After a short conversation with the person Al heard identified as Professor LoNigor, he hung up. "That was Professor LoNigro," Sam said needlessly.

"Oh yeah. What'd he want?" Al hoped he sounded curious and not suspicious. He couldn't shake the feeling he had about the man but, without anything concrete to go by, he didn't want to reveal that to Sam.

"You know that scientist I was hoping to meet at the Columbia reception, Dr. Gooshman? He's arranged for us to have lunch with him tomorrow."

"And by 'us' you mean…" Al let the question dangle.

"You, me, Professor LoNigro, and Dr. Gooshman." Correctly guessing that Al might feel LoNigro was trying to force his way in, Sam added on, "You can't expect him not to go, Al. He did set up the lunch."

"I guess," Al said blowing out a quick breath. Before they could get into the conversation anymore, he reminded, "Didn't you say you wanted to take a shower. Why don't you go ahead and I can get done after you."

"Ok," Sam agreed although he gave his friend an odd look. He had a feeling there was something that Al wasn't saying.

He went into his bedroom to take off and hang up the suit before taking out the clothes he'd bought the day before and laying them out on the bed. Once that was done, he went back to the common room so Al could wrap his arm in the cling wrap then into the bathroom for his shower.

"All yours," he said fifteen minutes later as he left the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. He didn't wait for Al to answer before going into his room and shutting the door. He traded the towel for a clean pair of boxer shorts then pulled on a pair of socks. He was reaching for the black trousers he'd bought when an idea came to him. Getting up, he went to the dresser to see what else Al had packed that he hadn't seen yet. At the bottom he found a pair of black jeans. He pulled them out and huffed out a little laugh.

Like his suits, the jeans were also casualties of his recent weight gain although unlike the suits they weren't uncomfortable to wear. They were just a little snugger than he liked to wear his jeans. He tossed them on the bed with the shirt Al had insisted would look good on him. If his friend was going to take him out clubbing tonight, well, there was nothing that said he couldn't have a little fun at his friend's expense. He quickly finished dressing and went back out to the common room. Al was just coming out of the bathroom when he did.

When Al caught sight of the way Sam was dressed, he would have been willing to bet the farm that the kid was hoping to get some action tonight. Instead of the black trousers he'd bought, he had on the pair of black jeans Al had tossed in the suitcase thinking they'd work in a pinch if Sam needed something dressier. He didn't realize, at the time, that they were on their way to meeting the same fate as the Zegna suit but hadn't quite gotten that tight yet. Instead, they were just snug on Sam. Al was sure the ladies would think they were snug in all the right places.

As he and the salesclerk had told Sam, the green shirt was just the right shade to bring out the green in his eyes. What he hadn't expected was for Sam to have the top three buttons undone showing off a bit more of his chest than he normally did.

He came to the conclusion that tonight he wouldn't have a problem keeping up his end of the bet. The way Sam was dressed, combined with his natural good looks and boy next door charm was certain to attract every eligible woman...and many who weren't.

"This ok to wear out?" Sam asked in innocence. "I know I bought the trousers but the jeans are more comfortable. I thought they looked ok with the shirt."

"Its fine, Sam. The ladies'll love it. I'm just going to get dressed now."

As the bedroom door closed behind Al, Sam did his best to stifle the laugh that wanted to escape him. He knew his friend never expected him to go out dressed as he was.

About ten minutes later, Al came out ready for their evening out having chosen a maroon silk shirt with a black bolo tie, black jacket, and black slacks. He found Sam channel surfing. "You ready to go?"

Sam turned off the TV and tossed the remote on the couch. "All set."

"I was thinking we might as well grab something to eat downtown. Nothing fancy, maybe a burger or something," Al mentioned as they were taking the elevator to the first floor.

"What?" Sam asked, his eyebrows rising in mock surprise. "You don't want to go out for Italian?"

Al rolled his eyes at Sam. "You know, I don't always suggest Italian."

"Just about ninety nine percent of the time...but I guess that's not always."

"Can I help it if the Italian's know how to cook?"

"If you say so." Sam didn't feel like another discussion regarding the merits of one cuisine over another and felt the best way to head that off was to simply agree.

"In any case, I'm not tonight. I figure just something easy and quick. Besides, I know a little place close to the first place we're going."

"First place?" Sam questioned. "Just how many places to you plan on dragging me tonight?"

"We agreed on two...but if you want to go to more, we can."

"Two's fine," Sam quickly responded. "As a matter of fact, I'd be willing to change it to one if you'd like."

"Not a chance," Al answered. "Remember we already negotiated down from three."

"We did?" Sam pretended not to remember that discussion. "I thought we negotiated up from one. Are you sure you're remembering right?"

"Good try, Kid," the older man said as they left the elevator. "But don't worry; you're going to like the places we're going to."

As they left the elevator, Sam grabbed Al by the arm stopping him. "Um, when was the last time you were in any of these places?" To his knowledge, in the six years that he'd known him, Al hadn't made any trips to New York.

"The last time? I guess that would be right before I met Maxine."

"Oh, that's right. You were in New York a couple of years ago. I forgot about that."

They made it out of the lobby. "PATH station, right?" Al asked as they stepped outside. "Yeah, sort of a funny story. A friend of mine had a bit too much to drink and decided after the evening festivities were over to get a tattoo. He needed to go to Jersey City for that and I went along to try to talk him out of it. He ended up getting the tattoo but that's where I met Maxine."

"Stuff fairytales are made of," Sam cracked before quickly apologizing. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

Al shrugged. "We had some good times together. From what I understand, she's moved out to San Francisco. She's still hoping to break into roller derby. I wish her luck cause heaven knows, she's going to need it."

Sam started to make a comment about 'break' being a good word choice but quickly stopped himself. No matter how much Al tried to put on a front that his most recent divorce wasn't affecting him, Sam knew how much it had hurt him. "What kind of places are we're going to?"

"These places always have a live band. Nice dance floors. They tend to focus on classic cover bands and some newer stuff."

"Sounds like fun," Sam commented unenthusiastically.

"What, you don't like classic rock and roll? You grew up in the 60's and 70's. I'd think you'd be into those bands."

"I liked Simon & Garfunkle. Is it going to be that kind of music?"

"Simon and Garfunkel? You can't really dance to that, Sam. Besides, this would be more U2, Three Dog Night, the Who, you know good music."

"Sounds great," Sam said. A train pulled into the station. The two men waited until the few departing passengers exited before entering the train and finding seats.

It took them about thirty minutes to reach the restaurant that Al had spoken about. Sam had to admit it was a good place. After eating they moved to the first club. After paying the cover charge at the door, they walked in. Al crinkled his nose at the surrounding.

"This isn't like what I remember." There wasn't any music playing at the moment but Al noticed the platform for a DJ. "Oh great. No live music. I hope the DJ plays something good."

"Maybe it'll just stay..." Sam started to say but the DJ had arrived. Loud, pulsating music started to pour from the multiple speakers. "You sure this is the right place?" Sam had to raise his voice to be heard over the music.

"This is the right place but not the right music." Al stopped a waitress. "Excuse me, but when did they start with the DJ?

The young woman who couldn't be older than twenty-three smiled. "DJ? John's been here as long as I have."

"And that would be?"

"I've been working here about six months."

"Great." The woman smiled and walked off. Al turned to Sam. "Come on, Kid, let's go find another club. We just won't count this one."

"Oh no," Sam disagreed. He had to practically shout to be heard over the music. "You said two clubs. This is one. You want to leave now; I'm fine with that but this counts as the first one."

"You really want to stay here? For thirty minutes?"

"Not really but I don't want to keep going from place to place 'til you find one that meets your approval." Sam looked at his watch. "We've been here seven minutes already."

Al looked like the wind had gone out of his sails as he responded rhetorically, "Twenty-three minutes more?"

A woman walked up to Sam. "Hey. You're pretty cute. Want to dance?" The song 'Simply Irresistible' had just started playing.

Sam's eyebrows rose when he heard the woman...girl. She couldn't have been more than twenty-one. "You know, I'd love to," he hedged, "but I...uh...I got a bad knee and can't." He smiled at her as disarmingly as he could. "Thanks for asking, though."

Al decided to have a little fun at his friend's expense. "Oh come on, Sam. Your knee's not that bad. I bet she won't mind, will you, miss."

The young woman nodded. "Yeah, your father's right. I won't mind."

Sam didn't attempt to hold back a snicker at the "father" comment. "It's really bothering me tonight, 'Dad'. I better not."

Al sputtered, looking a bit taken aback. "I'm not his father."

"Um...ok..." the woman answered, backing off. "Hope you two have a nice night." She walked over to a group of other young women. She was obviously talking about them.

Once the girl had walked away, Sam let out a bark of laughter. "So, 'Dad,' you want to get something to drink at the bar?"

"Yeah, sure." Al had continued watching the girls. "What do you think they're saying?" When one looked at them suspiciously, he groaned. "Great. They think we're perverts or something."

Sam tugged on Al's sleeve. "C'mon. It doesn't matter. They're way too young for either of us. Let's just get something to drink." He again looked at his watch. "There's only nineteen more minutes."

"Thanks for small favors," Al said following Sam.

"Just remember, this was all your idea. I should be back at the hotel making sure I'm ready for tomorrow."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, I've got one more chance."

"Good idea," Sam echoed with an eye roll. They'd reached the bar and, after several attempts, he was able to get the bartender's attention and order a light beer. "You want anything?"

"Club soda with a squeeze of lime."

Once they'd been given the drinks and Sam paid, he gestured to one of the tables ringing the dance floor. "Let's just find someplace to sit until it's time to go."

"How much time do we have?" Al asked, hopefully. He followed Sam to the table.

"Exactly fourteen minutes," Sam replied as he sat down. The music changed to a very rhythmic beat with lyrics that were more chanted than sung. "That's music?" he asked of no one in particular.

"Apparently," Al answered watching the young people on the dance floor. He took a sip. "It's official, Kid."

"What's official?"

"Well, I'm sure your parents weren't crazy about your music when you were younger. I know the nuns weren't crazy about mine. We're now them."

Sam listened to the music for a few seconds then shook his head. "If you're trying to say we're old, I'll take it if being young means having to listen to this." He listened for another few seconds. "Is he really singing about vanilla ice or am I just not hearing it right?"

"Who knows. Must mean something to this group, though. They appear to like it just fine."

"I guess so." Sam let out a laugh at the next lyric he caught. "He's a lyrical poet? Right...and I'm William Shakespeare."

"In comparison, I'd agree with that. How much time left in purgatory?"

The noise, as Sam came to think of it ended, or at least he thought it did. It seemed to segue into something that sounded similar. He took another sip from his beer then put it on the table to check his watch. "Nine minutes." He eyed the crowd that had built up over the last twenty minutes and realized they'd have to go through it while crossing the dance floor in order to get to the exit. "How about we call it even and leave now. It's gonna take a few minutes to get through all those bodies."

"Sounds good to me." Al finished his water.

"Let's go, then." Sam took a last swig from his beer and put the bottle on the table. The two started to make their way to the exit. As Sam had suspected, it took a few minutes to get through the press of bodies and to the coat check by the door. Once they reached it, he presented the claim ticket for their two coats.

"Night's just getting started," the young man at the coat check commented as he handed their coats to them before taking a long look at them. "I guess it gets late pretty fast for you guys, though."

Sam took his coat with a jaundiced smile. "Yeah. You know us geezers. If we don't get to bed early..."

The kid didn't take the brush off from Sam for what it was and continued the conversation. "My grandfather goes to bed as soon as the sun goes down and he's up before it. He's missing all the fun." He looked over to Al. "Hey, you must be as old as him."

"Did you just…" Al started to say only to be cut off when Sam grabbed his sleeve and dragged him to the door and out onto the sidewalk. "He just called me a grandfather," he sputtered once they were outside.

"Hate to break it to you but, considering how young that kid is, you probably are old enough to be his grandfather and I'm probably old enough to be his father."

Al's shoulders dropped. "Yeah, I know. Still doesn't make it easy to accept."

"No, sure doesn't." Sam realized that he was lucky. Al was so caught up in being compared to a grandfather, it went right past him that Sam had said he was old enough to be his father or his friend would probably be sputtering at him right now instead.

"Well, I'm pretty sure the next place hasn't changed. It's been around for years."

"You'll forgive me if I hold off believing you until we actually get there."

"Fair enough. Tell you what, I'll go in and check it out before we go in, ok?"

"No. Remember, the deal wasn't that we go club to club until you find two that meet with your approval. We both go in and if it ends up like that last one...oh well. We do another thirty minutes in purgatory then we go back to the hotel."

"So...I get one more shot?"

"One more and if it bombs, it bombs." Sam held up a hand to stop his friend when it looked like he was going to object. "I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for this bet so one more and then that's it. I'm going back to the hotel. If you want to keep trying, that's ok with me."

Letting out a breath of resignation, the older man responded. "Fine. You know, I was hoping that this would actually be an enjoyable night for you."

"I'm sorry if this isn't something I really enjoy doing. Can we just go now?"

"Yeah." Al called a taxi and five minutes later, they stepped out in front of an old brick building in Greenwich Village. The sound the Door's song "Break on Through" wafted up from a basement club. The older man smiled and he exited the cab after paying the driver. "I knew it would be the same."

Sam looked at the building skeptically and let out a little sigh. Looked like it was going to be another half hour of shouting in order to be heard.

After paying their cover, Al led Sam into the club where they checked their coats once more. The space was well laid out, a live band at one end and a bar on the other. The dance floor was a reasonable size but the tables and chairs surrounding it weren't crowded. A good size crowd of people were already having a good time, some dancing, some at the bar, and some at tables. While the music was loud it wasn't so loud that the one couldn't have a conversation, well placed acoustical tiles absorbing some of the sound.

Sam looked around. He wasn't as impressed as Al seemed to be but at least he didn't feel like he was going to be accused of robbing the cradle here. The clientele was generally younger than Al but he was smack in the middle of the average age.

Al broke the silence between the two men. "Hey, why don't I get us our drinks? You find a table, ok?"

"Sure." Sam looked around the tables and spied an empty one. "I'll be over there," he said pointing.

"Ok, Kid. Be back soon."

Sam sat at the table looking around and unconsciously tapping on the table to the beat. He had to admit; in comparison to the last place, this club wasn't so bad. A few minutes later, Al was back with a light beer for him and what he figured was water with lime for himself. "Thanks," he said as Al sat down.

"No problem, Pal. You got the last ones." The older man looked around as well. "Pretty good band, huh."

"Yeah, it's not bad," Sam agreed taking a sip from the beer.

They listened for a bit when an auburn haired woman walked up to the table. "Hi. I hope you don't think I'm being too forward but I was wondering if you might like to dance." She was clearly looking at Sam.

"Uh..." Sam looked between the rather attractive, thirty-something woman and Al. "Um...maybe later," he suggested with a smile.

"Oh. Ok. My friends and I are over there," she said, pointing to a table on the other side of the dance floor. There were two other women there who also looked to be in their mid-thirties. One saw their friend pointing to them and smiled.

Sam smiled in the direction of the table then at the woman again. "Ok."

"Well, if you do decide to dance..." She trailed off before continuing over to her table.

Al shook his head at Sam's turning down the lady. "You know you were complaining about not getting enough exercise. Last time I checked, dancing is aerobic."

"I didn't want to dance, right now. Is that a crime?"

"No. Not a crime." The Bryan Adam's song 'Summer of Sixty Nine' was the next song the band took up. "The best time of my life sure wasn't '69. That had to wait a few more years."

"Yeah, '69 wasn't exactly a banner year for me either."

"Still, great music from that era."

"Yeah."

Al looked around the room. He noticed a woman that appeared to be checking him out. "If I'm a gentleman, I can still go dancing right?"

"Huh?"

"The bet."

"Oh, yeah. I guess that's ok."

"And if you want a bit of exercise, you can too, you know. It's a cinch you'll be a gentleman."

"Right." Sam looked around again. There were some attractive women in the room but he was sure there wouldn't be a problem that would cause him to lose the bet.

"Ok then. I'm going to see if I can find a dance partner. As long as we're here, I want to get moving."

Sam smiled at his friend and watched as he went over and asked a lady to dance. A few minutes later, they were on the floor moving to the beat. He continued watching through a few more songs noting that Al was a natural in this environment. As he critiqued the dancing and nursed his beer, he was oblivious to the women that were running their eyes over him. His eyes eventually lit on the woman who'd asked him to dance earlier and noticed she was sitting alone. Looking at the dance floor, he saw her friends were both dancing. Al was also still in his own version of Nirvana. Shrugging, he finished his beer, got up, and moved over to where she was sitting. After all, when in Rome.

"Would you still like to dance?" Sam asked as the song changed to a Huey Lewis number, 'Hip to be Square,' began.

She'd had her eyes on the dance floor and now looked up. Seeing who it was, she smiled. "I'd love to...umm..."

He picked up that she was fishing for a name. "My name's Sam."

"Hi Sam. I'm Michelle. Shall we?" she said, getting up. He allowed her to walk first to the dance floor and once there, they started to move to the music.

After a few moments Michelle's smile broadened. "Hey, you're pretty good. I'm surprised I haven't seen you here before."

"My friend and I are just visiting," Sam explained.

"Well, I'm sure glad you showed up tonight."

Smiling back Sam continued to move to the music, knowing he was a more than competent dancer. Eventfully he lost track of time, really enjoying the music, the dancing, and just relaxing. He hadn't done this for a while. The last time he remembered was during the visit to Katie's a few years before while Al was on his honeymoon. It did feel invigorating to move and get his heart pumping. Al was right about that, this was a good aerobic workout.

As the night continued, Al chuckled a few times that his prediction had come true. Sam was a hit and by the way he was being looked at and approached, it wasn't just his dance moves that were attracting the ladies. Those jeans were like a candle to their eyes. There was one redhead who approached Sam as he was coming off the dance floor. Al would have loved to have known exactly what it was she whispered in his ear as she ran her hand over his exposed chest. Whatever it was, Sam's eyes had gotten huge before he'd disentangled himself from the woman and quickly moved away from her. She'd pouted after him but quickly found a new target.

Overall, the kid proved to be a constant gentleman as Al expected. And, as hard as it had been for him to mind himself, he'd done the same. The bet wasn't over yet.

Occasionally, the two men would find themselves back at the table for a quick glass of water or, in Sam's case, some beer as well. Al made it outside a couple of times to enjoy a cigar. After the second such trip, the older man went back to the table and noticed Sam still out on the dance floor enjoying his night out. It did his heart good to know his friend would definitely sleep well tonight instead of worrying about the presentation. Thinking about that, Al checked his watch and was surprised to see it was already eleven p.m. When Sam came back to the table after the current song, he told him, "We better leave, Kid."

Sam looked at him. "Why? I thought you liked this place."

The older man smiled. "I do but you'd better look at the time."

As he sat at the table, Sam took a long drink from the glass of water he had there then checked his watch. "I…" He cleared his throat then tried again. "I guess so."

"I mean, I'm game for another hour but with that presentation tomorrow, you probably want to get some shuteye."

Even though he was enjoying himself, Sam knew he'd have to be up early the next day. The meeting was at ten the next morning and he wanted some time to make sure he was ready. "You're right. We should get going."

"I'll get our coats. You finish your water."

Finishing the water in a gulp, Sam shook his head. "No, I'm done."

"Ok. Let's go." The two men went and got their coats before going outside. "Listen, let me grab us a taxi. My treat."

"That's probably a good idea." Sam shivered and pulled his coat closer around him. "Feels like the temperature's gone down again." He dug his gloves out of his pocket and put them on.

"I think it has," Al said pulling his coat tighter. It wasn't long before a cab pulled up. Once they were inside, the older man noted, "You surprised me tonight. I didn't know you could dance like that."

"I'm just full of..." Sam started to say then stopped to clear his throat again. "I'm just full of surprises."

Al caught the throat clearing as he had when Sam had done it in the club. "That cold bothering you again?"

"No," Sam said, brushing away his friend's concern. "It's just because of having to raise my voice over the music. I'll be fine in the morning."

Al looked at the other man skeptically but agreed with him. Hopefully, Sam was right and this wasn't' the start of the "respiratory infection from hell" his friend seemed to get at least once every winter. "So, who taught you to dance like that?"

"Nobody, really," Sam explained. "I just sort of...picked it up."

"Picked it up? Kid, you need to go to places with dancing to pick it up. So, who taught you," Al asked again.

"What makes you think I haven't gone to places? Just because this isn't my first choice for a night out doesn't mean I haven't gone to clubs in the past." What Sam left unsaid was that it was usually someone else who had to drag him to a club. When he was in school, he didn't go out a lot, preferring to stay in and study.

"Well, it sure was a surprise to me. I think this was the first time we've gone out like this since I met you...and how many years has that been? Six?"

"Maybe," Sam said non-committedly. "But you know me, I'd rather read a book than go out like that. You saw what happened. Once I started dancing, I kept getting asked to dance."

"You have only yourself to blame for that, Kid."

"Huh?"

"You were putting out signals that you might be 'available' and quite a few seemed eager to take you up on it."

"Signals?" Sam sputtered. "I was not. I wasn't doing anything like that."

"So you think what you're wearing didn't send a message?"

"What I'm wearing?" Sam started questioning but then stopped. "Oh...yeah...that."

Sam's answer made Al question his original assumptions about why his friend had decided to wear the jeans, regardless of his denial that he was sending signals. "You knew they'd have that effect?"

"I guess but that isn't why I wore them."

The older man tried to put two and two together, but it wasn't adding up. "What? Then why the heck did you wear them?"

"Well, you always make fun of how I dress...tell me I'm too conservative. I just wanted to yank your chain a little and prove that I'm not as predictable as you think I am."

"You wore them because of my fashion sense?" Al asked incredulous. He let out a laugh. "Geez, Sam, I'll admit you did surprise me with your choice but I thought you were just clueless about the effect of your dress...that you just wanted to wear jeans. That choice sure backfired on you didn't it."

"It's not funny and it's all your fault," Sam sputtered out.

"How do you figure that? I suggested the trousers you bought yesterday and I certainly didn't tell you to show more of your chest than you normally do."

"It was your idea to go out and when I asked you if this was ok, you didn't say anything so I guess a small part of me figured I hadn't gone far enough to get a rise out of you."

"You're always telling me not to treat you like a child. I figured, since you've been dressing yourself for...at least thirty-three years and probably longer considering how precocious you were...that you could decide for yourself what to wear."

"It was supposed to be a joke," Sam defended himself. "Some joke. It sure backfired on me. Did you see that redhead who practically threw herself on me? Why would a woman want to debase herself like that just to get a man's attention?"

"Sexual energy, kid. Some people...women or men...have an abundance. Add that to the sexual revolution that makes it acceptable for women to be more assertive to get what they want and the fact that you were sending signals and she probably didn't think she was debasing herself. Just trying to get someone who was playing hard to get. She just misread you."

"Misread me? Do you know what she suggested? Do you?"

"What?" Al asked, definitely interested.

"When I said she was a good dancer, she suggested we find a dark, secluded corner and she could show me she was more talented with her mouth than she was on the dance floor...and I don't think she meant kissing. Still think she wasn't debasing herself?"

"Good thing she said that to you and not me. I think you would have won the bet."

Sam looked at his friend in open-mouthed shock. "You mean you would have let her...someone you don't even know...and in a public place?"

"She did say a dark, secluded corner. It wouldn't be like doing it on the dance floor. And two consenting adults...what's wrong with that?

Sam continued to look at his friend as if antennae had sprouted from the top of his head. He knew that Al could be a lot looser about things of a sexual nature but he'd have never thought his friend would do what he was suggesting. After a few seconds, his shock turned to amusement and he started to laugh. "Good one, Al. You almost had me going that you'd let a woman do...that...in a club - dark corner or not."

Al raised an eyebrow at Sam's disbelief. It was true if it had actually happened, he would have suggested a more private place, like his hotel room or hers. Still he read that his friend's reaction was an inditement on his character and he didn't want his friend thinking he was a pervert any more than the girls at the first club did. "Um. yeah. Really had you going, didn't I?"

"For a second, yeah, you did but... You wouldn't really, would you?" There was a small niggling doubt in the back of Sam's mind. Before Al could answer, he held up a hand. "On second thought, don't answer. And I'm not trying to trick you to lose the bet."

Al couldn't help tweaking Sam's attitude a bit. "Ok. I won't answer about the redhead but...I'm not guaranteeing it wouldn't ever happen. Just not on this trip."

Again, Sam could only look at his friend in open-mouthed shock. "There's still a lot about you I don't know," he said after a moment.

"I guess that could be said for both of us. Like I said, I didn't know you could dance like you do. I guess that's just part of friendship. Learning what makes up the onion."

"I guess." The two men lapsed into silence for a few minutes until Sam broke it. "Al, I don't want to know everything about your onion, ok."

Al looked at his friend as he made his pronouncement. "Don't worry about that and I promise not to peel your onion too much. Even the best of friends have layers that haven't been discovered."

The absurdity the direction the conversation had taken struck Sam and he began to laugh. "Peel the onion too long and you're just going to start crying," he forced out between chuckles.

Sam's laughter was infectious and Al began to laugh as well. "You sure you didn't get one of your degrees in philosophy?"

"I think I read it in a fortune cookie, once," Sam forced out past his laughter causing Al to laugh even harder.

After a few more minutes, the laughter in the cab died down and the two men were mostly silent. By the time they pulled up in front of the hotel, Sam was starting to drowse in the seat. "We're here, Kid," Al said as he jiggled his friend's shoulder.

While Al paid the driver, Sam got out and started to walk toward the lobby entrance on auto pilot. Al caught up with him and made sure to steer the younger man in the right direction. They quickly made their way up to their room and before long; both had made their way to their respective bedrooms, tired and ready to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Sam opened his eyes realizing that he'd slept through the night without any problem. He'd been worried that the upcoming presentation might have weighed on his mind and kept him from the sleep he needed. He also noted that his muscles were a bit sore, probably due to the dancing the night before. The only other thing that he found bothered him was a bit of a scratchy throat but as he'd told Al the night before, it was probably just the fact that they'd had to shout to be heard in the clubs, especially the first one.

As he threw his legs to the side, he chuckled remembering his and Al's brush with that much younger generation. It wasn't the first time he'd seen Al refusing to go easy into his age. In Sam's mind, Al still saw himself as ageless. He had to admit, his friend did a pretty good job of holding off father time. Sometimes he thought he acted like the older one between the two.

Walking out into the common room, he saw that he was the first up again. That didn't really surprise him either. Al wasn't an 'up before the rooster' kind of guy. Going over to the desk, Sam picked up his presentation materials. It wouldn't hurt to go over the information yet again. His future was riding on this and he wanted to be prepared.

Forty-five minutes later, Al came out of his bedroom. Bleary-eyed, he went into the bathroom without saying anything to Sam. When he came out a few minutes later, he walked over to stand behind the younger man to see what he was doing. "Don't you ever sleep late?" he complained.

Sam flipped the binder he'd been going through closed and looked up at his friend. "Sure, but not days that I have important meetings."

"I'd think those would be the days you'd want to make sure you're well-rested."

"I am well-rested." Sam got up from the desk. "I'm going to go take a shower since you're up. Don't worry; I'll try to keep the flooding to a minimum. You mind ordering some breakfast while I do that. The meeting's at ten so we should leave here by eight forty-five at the latest. I'd rather be early than late."

"It's quarter of seven, Sam. I don't think there's going to be a problem with both of us being ready by the time you want to leave." Al picked up the room service menu. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Whatever," Sam answered as he went back to the bedroom. "Just don't get a lot 'cause I'm..."

"...not that hungry," Al finished for him. "You never are before these big things."

Sam came out of the bedroom with clothes to put on after his shower. "I'll make up for it at lunch."

"Don't I know it," Al agreed. "Maybe I should warn LoNigro and Gooshman that you're likely to get everything on the menu and they better hang on to their plates."

"Oh, ha ha. You crack me up, Al." A sneeze burst out of Sam before he said anything else. "Don't say anything," he cautioned.

"Gesundheit," was all Al said. He watched as his friend went into the bathroom and closed the door. It would probably be a good idea to keep an eye on him today. If there was something coming down the pike, he wanted to be prepared for it. He picked up the phone and called in their breakfast order.

It didn't take long before their order was brought up to the room. Al was just going to knock on the bathroom door and hurry Sam along when it opened and his friend came out. "Time to eat, Kid."

Sam took a seat at the dinette table where their breakfast had been left and took the cover off the plate Al indicated was his. "I said not to get a lot," he commented when he saw the scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries and toast.

"You need something more substantial than just a bowl of oatmeal. You need some protein, too. Just eat what you can and make sure you drink the juice."

"Ok," Sam agreed with a sigh. He picked up the glass of orange juice and took a long drink from it. "I've been meaning to ask you," he said as he started poking at the eggs. "I know I asked you to wear your uniform today but are you going to get in trouble if you do that? I remember Tom said he couldn't just wear his willy nilly if it wasn't something official."

Al cut off a piece of the omelet he'd ordered for himself. "He was right but there's no issue with me wearing it today. Since I'm sorta here in an official capacity for the DoD."

"Excuse me?" Sam asked putting down the glass he'd just picked up. "What's that mean and how come I'm just hearing about it now?"

"It means that you're planning on using technology from StarBright, right?" He waited for Sam to nod in agreement then went on. "StarBright was funded by the DoD and that means they've got a stake in what happens with that technology. It doesn't matter if you get private funding or if you get funding from the Pentagon, there's still going to be some DoD involvement. I'll be representing the DoD's interests and making sure the wrong technology isn't getting out to every Tom, Dick, and Harry. I thought you knew that and that's why you told them I was an admiral, Sam." He put the fork down and looked closely at his friend. "Don't tell me you told them that just to impress them?"

Sam squirmed a bit. "Well..."

"Saam," Al responded. "You're going to get funding based on the soundness of your proposals. Yeah, you have to have good people on the project but that's only a part of what you've put together. What really matters is that you've got what is potentially another Nobel winning concept here that could lead to an incredible breakthrough in human endeavors. Focus on that and not on impressing people."

"I just thought it might help," Sam mumbled. "You're a Navy Admiral and you were an astronaut. I'm just some no-name scientist."

"No name?" Al asked half in shock, half in amusement. "You're selling yourself short, Kid. You do remember that Nobel, don't you? You're not a no-name and don't let me hear you selling yourself short like that again. I doubt you'd even have gotten the chance to present to the Millennium Group if they weren't highly impressed by your credentials."

"I guess. Still, I didn't think it would hurt to have a decorated Navy Admiral on board. And...I just realized that sounds like I'm using you," Sam said chagrined.

"You just wanted to make sure you held a great hand. Nothing wrong with that...just don't let that be what you think will garner the laurels."

"So, you're not upset with me for doing that?"

"Of course not, Kid. I've told you, I'll do anything to help you reach that dream of yours. I feel honored to be a part of your team...or at least the team you'll eventually have."

"Good," Sam said in relief. "I didn't want you think I just wanted to use you. I mean, I know that's what I was going to do when we first met and all but...I could never do that, Al. Especially not to you. Our friendship means too much to me. You know that."

"Yeah. I know and the feeling's mutual. Now, even though we've got some time, I think I should start getting ready," the older man said, feeling the conversation was getting way to close to a 'warm fuzzy' one.

Sam put down his fork and pushed his plate away. "I'm done with this anyway. You really shouldn't have gotten me so much food. I don't know if its nerves about the meeting or what but my stomach feels like it's on a roller coaster right now."

"It'll settle," Al said, hoping his pronouncement would be correct. "Maybe if you listen to some music while I'm getting ready. That always seems to sooth your worries a bit."

"Not right now," Sam disagreed. "I don't think I have the patience for it. Besides, I need to finish getting dressed unless you think suit pants and an undershirt is a good look. In which case, we didn't have to put Sal out."

"You goofball," Al responded as he walked into the bathroom to get his own shower.

As the bathroom door closed behind Al, Sam went into his bedroom. He put on the dress shirt they'd bought the day before, a tie, and the suit jacket. He looked at himself in the mirror and tugged at the tie a bit. Satisfied with what he saw, he went back to the common room and packed the materials he'd need in his briefcase. He was pacing the distance of the room when Al came out of the bathroom.

Al stopped. "You know, you walk a hole in the carpet, we'll have to replace it." His words were said in a way Sam would understand he was joking.

"Put it on the bill," Sam responded without stopping his pacing. He was so caught up on how he was going to present his planned project that he'd barely heard what Al had said.

Al walked over to his friend and put a hand on his shoulder to focus him. "You're wound up tighter than a snake charmer's cobra. It's going to be fine, Sam. "

"A what?" Sam asked as Al's odd words broke through. "A cobra?" What the heck does that mean?"

"It means that you need to calm down. You're prepared and that's going to show through. Didn't you learn some kind of meditation techniques with all of those martial arts skills? Maybe you should employ one or two."

"I don't want to med..." Sam started to say but cut himself off when he reached for the box of tissues on the coffee table. He sneezed into one three times in succession. "I don't want to meditate," he finished.

"Which is exactly why it might be a good idea," Al stated. "You still sure you're not coming down with something?" he asked with concern.

"I don't know," Sam admitted as he slumped into the arm chair. He reached for the box of tissues again and pulled another one out to wipe his nose. "Wouldn't that be the cherry on the sundae?"

"It would be about as expected," Al said quietly to himself. Louder he responded, "Fix yourself some tea...the herbal kind. It'll help with the stuffiness. I'll be out as quick as I can."

"We're not home, Al. It's not like there's a fully stocked kitchen here." He looked around the room. "You still got that box of cold medicine you bought the other day?"

"The box is over on the counter. And there's a couple of teabags there as well that the hotel left. We have the microwave you know."

Sam located the box where Al said it would be. He read the side of it then held it up so Al could see it. "May cause drowsiness. That's probably not a good thing right now...and I don't want tea."

Al let out a sigh. "Ok, Sam. Do what you want. If I don't get ready, it'll all be moot anyways. Be right out," he said heading to his room.

"I'll be here." Sam was tempted to start pacing again but knew, if he did, Al would just have something to say when he came out. Instead, he forced himself to sit still on the couch looking out the window at the boats on the river. When he heard the bedroom door open, he turned to face it. Al was coming out dressed in his dress blue uniform. "Look at you. Sometimes I forget you can dress like a grownup," he joked.

"The Navy tends to expect that, Kid." He paused. "How you doing?"

"How am I doing?" Sam shrugged slightly. "I've got no choice but to do ok, right?"

"Well...that's a better attitude than when I left. Come on. Let's go. Maybe we can find some of those non-drowsy cold meds."

"We don't have to." Sam got his overcoat from the closet and handed Al his. He didn't confess to his friend that he still felt nervous about the meeting. It really wouldn't help matters. "It's all going to be over in a couple of hours. I just need to hang on that long."

"Ok," Al responded skeptically. Still he knew he shouldn't push his friend regarding the cold medication. It would only start the cycle over again. "You're going knock this out of the ballpark, Sam."

"I don't suppose I can get a guarantee for that, can I?"

"Not a guarantee...but the stats are good."

"I guess that's better than nothing."

The two men left the hotel. They opted to take a taxi into the city instead of the PATH. Despite traffic, they still arrived at the building about fifteen minutes early.

Sam had spent the time in the taxi with his eyes closed, clearly going over the presentation in his mind. When they arrived at the Trump Tower where the Millennium Group had their office, Al shook him slightly. "We're here, Sam. Why don't you go on in and I'll pay the driver."

"Yeah. Sure." Sam got out of the cab but instead of going in, he stood on the sidewalk staring up at the reflective glass of the building. He startled when he felt Al's hand on his shoulder. "I'm out of my league here, aren't I?"

"What?" Al looked at what had caught Sam's focus. "It's just a building. They want you to be impressed. Maurice Requin is still a human being and he eats and breathes like the rest of us."

"I've got a feeling he's not eating like I do." Sam heaved a deep breath and led the way into the building. He stopped in his tracks when he got his first look at the atrium suddenly feeling very much the farm boy in the city for the first time. He was unaware that his mouth had dropped open or how wide his eyes were.

"Well maybe not exactly like the rest of us. He probably can actually afford French truffles." Al looked over to Sam and noticed his reaction. He had to admit a six-story atrium wasn't something one saw every day. Still, he needed to help the kid or Sam's reaction could make this meeting more difficult for him. He took his friend's shoulder. "Sam. Close your mouth and look me in the eyes. I know this is a pretty swanky place but none of it matters. You could be presenting in a board room or the back stall of a barn and the material is going to be the same. You've got this, capice?"

Sam shook himself and pulled himself together. "I got this," he echoed. Spying the elevators, he led the way to them. By the time the two men got off on the twenty-third floor, he'd called on the person he'd tried to be when he first met Al, projecting a confidence he didn't necessarily feel. He approached the receptionist. "I'm Dr. Sam Beckett. I've got an appointment with Maurice Requin."

The woman gave him a full scan and nodded. "Yes, Dr. Beckett." She noted Al. "And you must be Admiral Calavicci. Welcome to the Millennium Group. Please have a seat and Mr. Requin's assistant will be right out."

The two men went over to the well-appointed waiting area and sat down. A few minutes later a neatly coifed, professionally dressed woman walked out, a smile on her face. "Dr. Beckett and Admiral Calavicci. I'm so glad to meet you. Mr. Renquin and our Business Development team are eager to meet you."

Both Al and Sam stood up. Al spoke first. "Thank you, miss..."

"Nicholas," the woman filled in. "Fiona Nicholas. Follow me." She led them to a door down a plush hallway, offices on either side. Opening one side of a cherry double door, she announced them to the twelve people seated around a long cherry wood table.

Sam took a deep breath that he hoped the people around the table didn't notice. When a tall, dark haired, older man got up and extended a hand to him, he hoped the only thing he exuded was confidence. "Mr. Requin. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said hoping he was right in identifying the man.

Maurice Requin smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Dr. Beckett. I'm glad you were able to meet with us on such short notice. When we received your proposal it was intriguing to say the least." He turned towards Al. "And you must be Dr. Beckett's partner that he indicated would be joining him today?"

Al extended his hand as well. "Yes. Admiral Albert Calavicci. I'm no longer active, but I do serve in a reserve capacity and I'll be representing the government's interests in this meeting as well."

"Of course," Mr. Requin responded. He gestured to the open seats and then introduced the other twelve people in the meeting. "I believe we can get started if you're ready, Doctor."

Sam nodded. "Of course." Before starting the slides, he introduced the hybrid computer concept. "Computer technology has moved forward in leaps since ENIAC was introduced in 1946. It is time for such a leap forward again and this time our modern computers will as primitive to us as ENIAC was at the PC revolution. With the technology that I will propose to you today, that next computer will become reality."

With that start, he went to his slides and started to present the computer that Project Quantum Leap would be based on with an overview of what it would take to bring it to fruition. He knew by the looks on the thirteen faces staring back at him that he had their full attention. Forty five minutes later, he ended the talk asking if there were any questions.

Maurice Requin, his fingers steepled, spoke first. "Thank you, Dr. Beckett. Fascinating concept." He paused. "It appears you've developed what may be a feasible project with huge ramifications for the next stage in IT."

"I believe it would provide the ability to do much more that the billions of computations a second that other super computers do. Indeed, one would be able to run multiple scenarios to their conclusions and potentially predict outcomes that we otherwise would not consider."

"Yes. And the ability to learn more about political and financial realities," Requin added. "How much do you estimate this project will cost to bring to fruition?"

A 'frog' entered Sam's throat as he began to answer and he reached for his water as Al slightly kicked him under the table.

"I'm sure you understand that this is not a typical project. There will be significant basic research required before we have can put these theories into practice. What we're here for is to discuss the initial investment in the infrastructure that Dr. Beckett presented," Al answered.

"We're quite aware of that, Admiral." The speaker was the man Requin had identified as Jack Davidson, the chief technology officer of the company. "It would be helpful to know what kind of finances we're looking at here." He flipped through the small packet of papers in front of him that was identical to what everyone else had. Sam had guessed it was a copy of the proposal he'd sent in. "There don't appear to be any financials in the information we've been provided."

Al was about to say something when Sam responded instead. "I'm sorry about that," he quickly apologized as he took a sheet of hand-written paper from his briefcase. "I didn't expect to meet this soon and I just finished putting together some preliminary figures yesterday."

As Sam handed the sheet over to Mr. Requin, Al tried to hold back a sigh. He had no idea what kind of numbers Sam had come up with and his own plan to address this situation had just been shot to hell. Not that he could really blame Sam for that since he hadn't told him about the plan, never expecting the kid would tackle this job on his own. As much confidence as he had in his friend when it came to the science of the project, he also knew that, sometimes, finances could be a bit out of Sam's sphere of knowledge. He could only hope that Sam hadn't swung too high or too low in his estimates.

Mr. Requin looked over the numbers and descriptions, neatly printed. He pushed a button on a console beside him. "Ms. Nicholas, would you please come into the conference room." He then addressed his attention to Sam. "Dr. Beckett, your presentation was impressive and, although usually financial information is handled somewhat differently in most of the proposals we receive, your reputation as a rather eccentric scientist precedes you. We'll have this typed up and distributed for our analysis." He then turned to Al. "I'm surprised as Dr. Beckett's partner you didn't suggest a more acceptable format to supply this information."

Al coughed softly before responding. "I apologize. You're correct. I should have provided more assistance."

"Well, no matter. It will take a few days for us to examine these figures." The door opened and the assistant walked in, going directly to her boss. He handed the paper to her and asked that it be put into proper format. When she left, he turned back to Sam and continued. "I'll have a copy sent to your hotel for your perusal to assure the numbers have been transcribed correctly. We can meet again after the first of the year to discuss the proposal more deeply and to go over any questions about the costs. In the meantime, I'd like to invite you both to a party we're holding tomorrow for our investors and clients. I think they would like to meet you and we can discuss, in an unofficial capacity of course, this proposal. Would that be possible?

"Yes," Sam said with, what he hoped, was a smile. "I look forward to it."

"Good. I'll have Ms. Nicholas provide you with the particulars before you leave. Again, I thank you for joining us, both of you. I'm sure we'll have much more to discuss later."

Sam was dismayed when he realized that they were, basically, being dismissed without any other questions being asked because he he'd been so poorly prepared with regards to the financial information. He should have known at the outset that that information would be needed and he should have asked for Al's help with it. "If there are any more questions I can answer for you today, I'd be happy to do so," he quickly said hoping to buy at least a little more time to convey his ideas.

"No. Not at this time. As I say, we'll need to review the financials in light of what you've presented. That will provide direction for the questions we'll need addressed. Once we have those we'll be able to assess the potential of funding this project and will have you both meet with us again formally."

Sam was about to say something more when Al spoke up. "Thank you, Mr. Requin. We understand and again apologize that the data wasn't incorporated in the proposal. Since some of the equipment is rather specialized, as you can imagine from the presentation, obtaining estimates for the costs was somewhat challenging. We look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."

Understanding that Al was pulling him from a situation that could, potentially, eliminate any hope of getting the funding he was hoping for, Sam quickly stood up and leaned over to shake Requin's hand. "Thank you again, Mr. Requin and I'm looking forward to tomorrow night."

Requin accepted the hand Sam held out to him. "If you don't mind waiting in the reception area, Ms. Nicholas can have the information for tomorrow before you leave...or I can have her send it to your hotel with the estimates."

Sam looked over to Al unsure which option he should take.

"We'll wait for the information and appreciate the invitation. If there's nothing else?" Receiving a shake of the head from the CEO, Al turned towards Sam. "After you."

"Thank you again," Sam forced out before turning to the door. Once he was out of the boardroom, he looked helplessly to the right and left. "I don't remember which way to go," he said under his breath so only Al could hear him.

"To your right, Kid." Al answered similarly.

Sam followed Al's directions as confidently as he could. When they were back in the reception area, Al remained standing as he sank down onto one of the couches there then quickly straightened up when he saw the receptionist looking their way. He restrained himself from getting up to pace the length of the area while they waited.

It was only a few minutes after they arrived in the reception area that Mr. Requin's assistant arrived, carrying two white envelopes. Sam immediately stood up and accepted the envelope she handed to him.

Al noticed the paper quality and size and understood that these were invitations to the soirée that would take place the following night. "Thank you, Ms. Nicholas. Will you be in attendance?"

"I will. I seldom leave Mr. Requin's side where the Millennium Group is concerned."

"Of course. We look forward to seeing you again."

Sam began to express that he also looked forward to seeing the woman but was cut off when he started to cough. He turned away from the assistant and his friend. Once the coughing stopped, he turned back. "I'm sorry about that."

"Can I get you some water, Dr. Beckett?"

"No, thank you. I'm all right. Really." Sam smiled at Ms. Nicholas hoping she'd believe him. "It's just a little tickle." He held up the envelope slightly. "I'll...uh...I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Yes." She then said in a quiet voice so that no one but she and Sam would hear, "It is a blacktie event." The way she said it there was the inference that the man might not pick up on that detail. Louder she continued, "I'll see you both tomorrow evening. Thank you for coming today."

The two men left and neither spoke until they got onto the otherwise empty elevator when Al turned to Sam. "You handed in your homework?"

"What?" Sam asked not understanding what the question meant.

"Your financials handwritten on a sheet of legal paper? That's what you'd do to hand in a class assignment in college. You've been in the business world for six years now and I know you've turned in multiple dissertations. What gave you the idea that a high powered group like this would see that as a plus?"

"I screwed up royally. I know it. Don't rub it in, please. I never thought about including the financials until yesterday. It just never occurred to me. Ok? What was I supposed to do? Just not have anything? Maybe I could have told him the cat ate it." Sam slumped against the back of the elevator. "Geez, could I have screwed that up more? Eccentric...he called me eccentric. Bumpkin might have been a better."

"That's actually the only thing you have going for you, Sam. People will often excuse geniuses for actions that us mere mortals would be shot down for. You've still got a chance. We wouldn't have been invited to the party tomorrow if they weren't still interested and the fact that they're likely to call you back after the financial analysis is a good sign. You haven't been kicked to the curb yet."

Sam wasn't in the mood to be soothed. He knew how much he'd compromised the project and, added to that, he was really starting to feel unwell. "Why didn't you ever say anything about having the financials for today? You're supposed to be the business whiz on this, not me."

Al was about to answer when the door to the elevator opened and three women got on. He smiled at them and responded to Sam, "Later." When they finally made it to the lobby, they got out and went to the door. Once on the street, Al signaled for one of the passing taxis. Once they were in the vehicle and the driver had been directed where to go, he turned to Sam. "Ok. Yeah. I'm supposed to be the business guy. You turned the proposal in before asking me what you needed. Whenever I tried to talk to you about costs, you were too busy. And as to today's meeting, if you recall, I didn't even know about it until last week. I figured they'd ask about the financials today and we'd indicate they were sent through a courier service and act surprised they didn't receive them. Then we could send them after the fact.'

"And it didn't cross your mind to share that little plan with me?" Sam lightly smacked his forehead. "I forgot. I'm a mind reader."

"No...but you can be a really bad actor sometimes. I needed your surprise and confusion about the courier service to pull it off. If I told you before the meeting, your face would have let the cat out of the bag real quick and they'd know I was telling a tale."

"So let me see if I've got this right. Your idea was to spring this phantom courier who never arrived on them and then we'd act all surprised that it hadn't arrived but, because I'm such a bad actor, you don't tell me about it. Instead, you just hope I'm so...what?...oblivious that I don't say anything about there being no courier and that the financials weren't done? Oh, that's a real good plan. They never would have guessed you were...and let's be honest about this...lying to them with that one. It's absolutely genius. Sooooo much better than what I did."

Al sighed. "I know you, Sam. Under those situations you would have looked at me to follow my lead and I would have talked our way out of it. Ok...so maybe not the best plan but when you have me flying by the seat of my pants, I do what I can. I'm sorry."

"And I did what I could so just can the remarks about my 'homework'."

"So, what numbers did you give them? You have a copy I can see?"

"Yes, I have a copy. What kind of idiot do you think I am?" Sam opened his briefcase and pulled out another sheet of paper. Unlike the one he'd given to Mr. Requin, this one was far from neatly printed and had numerous cross outs and erasures on it. "Here's my first draft. You know, the one I copied from so my homework would be in my neatest handwriting. Isn't that what all good little school boys do?"

Al rolled his eyes but didn't call Sam on his petulance. He knew the younger man wasn't feeling well and right now felt that he'd ruined his chance for funding from the Millennium Group. Under those circumstances, he was willing to cut him some slack. He took the paper and looked at it but the combination of poor writing combined with the cross outs and erasures made it impossible to read. "You expect me to be able to make heads or tails out of this? Let's get back to the hotel and you can walk me through it." He paused. "What did Ms. Nicholas say to you before we left? I couldn't hear her comment to you."

"She told me the thing tomorrow's blacktie. You know us fresh off the farm bumpkins. We can't figure that out without someone telling us. I'm surprised she didn't tell me what blacktie was. And I don't know what I'm going to do about that. It's not like I brought a tux with me. Geesh, I feel like they're going to make me jump through hoops."

"Blacktie's no problem. Sal can help us out with that. We'll just need to get measured so he can assure the proper fit."

"Oh sure, just get measured. Simple as that. Everyone knows you can find them a dime a dozen at the corner store." Sam let out a sigh and leaned his head back. This trip is starting to turn into one huge financial black hole."

"We don't need to buy the tuxes, Sam. We just need one for the night. Sal's helped me out before with this type of thing. Just leave it to me, Kid." He noticed Sam was looking flushed. He reached over and felt his forehead, receiving a glare from the younger man for his trouble. "Hey, I didn't kiss you, ok?" He paused. "But you do feel a little hot. Maybe you should take those cold meds and lie down when we get back to the hotel."

Sam pinched his nose. "I can't."

"Why not?" Al asked.

"Remember, we've got lunch today with Professor LoNigro and Dr. Gooshman. We're meeting them at the hotel restaurant at one o'clock. I was hoping I'd have some good news."

Al looked at his watch. "That'll give you about an hour to rest. I can get things set up with Sal while you're doing that." He sighed. "I guess you could hold off on taking the cold medicine until after lunch."

"I just wish I could go back to bed and start the day over." Sam gave a sideways look to his friend. "So much for those stats. I knew I should have gone for the guarantee."

"I wish I could have given it to you, Kid, but you it doesn't work that way." The irritation Al had been feeling with his friend earlier vanished when he saw the hangdog expression on his face. He really did wish he could have given Sam the guarantees he'd wanted that everything would work out. Even if it was his opinion that Pentagon funding would work out better in the long run than private funding would for what Sam had in mind, he felt bad for him.

"Would be nice," Sam said softly. The two men lapsed into silence for the rest of the ride back to the hotel.

When they got to the room, Al almost suggested that Sam go to his bedroom and lie down until they had to go downstairs for lunch. He held back from the suggestion not wanting to do anything that had the likelihood of frustrating Sam anymore. He figured they could go over the financial paperwork later as well. Hearing a quick set of sneezes followed by a groan caused him to shake his head. It sounded like the cold was definitely getting worse. "I'm just going to go in my room and give Sal a call. You need anything before I go?"

"No," Sam said with a quick shake of his head. His voice had taken on a distinct nasal quality along with being hoarse.

Al went into the bedroom and called the tailor from the phone beside his bed. He explained their most recent dilemma. Sal laughed and said that if it wasn't Al, he'd wonder if all these situations were being made up. Al told him he'd gotten used to it and that if changes like this didn't happen regular, he'd question if he was in the same life. He also let Sal know Sam was coming down with a cold. The tailor told him since he had the other man's measurements; all he needed was Al's. They made an appointment for Al to come down to the shop later that afternoon. After hanging up, he changed out of his uniform and into his more typical attire. Going out to the common area he was not at all surprised that Sam had lain down on the couch and was fast asleep. He looked at his watch, realizing he wouldn't have to wake the kid up for another ten minutes.

He picked up the financials paper to see if he could decipher it. There was no such luck and when the ten minutes were up he went to Sam and shook him lightly. "Hey, Kid…sorry to wake you…but we have guests coming for lunch, remember?"

"I fell asleep?" Sam asked as he pushed himself up on the couch. He knuckled his eyes then looked at his watch. "Yeah, lunch."

"Sal said you don't need to come to the shop. He just needs me. I told you he'd help us out."

"He's a good guy." Sam got up from the couch. He tightened the tie he hadn't taken off but only loosened and grabbed his suit coat from where he'd draped it on the armchair. "We better get going."

"Is there anything I should know about Dr. Gooshman?" Al asked.

"Um…not that I can think of. I've never met him but I know he's top in his field. I really think he'll be able to be a lot of help to get the computer we're going to need built." As they walked out the door, Sam looked at Al carefully. "You don't have on your uniform," he pointed out.

"Yeah. At this point, we're not officially talking about DoD stuff so I'm not representing the government. Can't wear the uniform."

Sam tugged at his tie. "I wish I'd thought to change."

"You were asleep." Al paused. You know, you could lose the tie and coat and put on that black pullover sweater. That would still work with the suit slacks."

Sam thought about the suggestion. If he went back to change, they'd, most likely, get down to the restaurant late. Still, there was something to say for comfort. "Be right back," he said as he quickly made his decision. When he got to the room door, he realized he didn't have his room key with him. He looked back up the corridor at Al. "I...uh...I guess I locked myself out."

"No problem," Al said as he pulled out his keycard. Once the door was opened he told Sam he'd meet him at the elevators.

Sam quickly exchanged his tie and suit coat for the black sweater Al mentioned then went to meet his friend at the elevator. "Ready."

"Good. Elevator hasn't arrived yet so you're right on time."

A moment later, the alert dinged and the door opened. Both men stepped in to join the four others with their luggage.

When they arrived in the lobby, they saw Professor LoNigro just walking in with another man. "Professor," Sam called out to him.

The man smiled. "Samuel! I apologize for us being late. I hope we didn't hold you up."

"Not at all, Professor. We just got down here."

"Good. Perhaps I should start the introductions. Dr. Gooshman, this is Dr. Samuel Beckett, a former and hopefully future colleague of mine and his business partner, Admiral Albert Calavicci." To the other two men he added, "And I'd like for you to meet Dr. Shlomo Gooshman, professor of computer science at Stanford University.

Dr. Gooshman put out his hand. "You can call me Gooshie if you'd like. That's what most people do."

Sam was initially assaulted by a heavy scent of Listerine which was attempting to cover a severe case of halitosis. He took the extended hand "I've been looking forward to meeting you Dr. Goosh...Gooshie."

Gooshie smiled. "It's an honor to meet you as well, Dr. Beckett."

Al shook the man's hand as well and his reaction to the breath was nearly the same as Sam's - basically ignoring it. He then moved the group to the restaurant. It wasn't busy and they were soon seated at their table. The waitress brought over waters and menus and left the four men to decide on their meals.

Dr. LoNigro, as he was perusing his menu asked, "Did it go well today, Samuel? If I remember correctly, this was your big day?"

"It went…ok," Sam responded hesitantly.

"We had some additional data to provide. They want to do more analysis. Not much more to tell," Al responded wanting move the topic to the side. Sam didn't need to be reliving it at lunch.

It appeared to work as Sam's ex-professor changed the subject. "I heard from Tim Slaughter the other day. You remember him, Sam? He was working on nuclear physics while you were my graduate student?"

"I remember him." Sam picked up the glass of water and took a sip from it. "How's he doing?"

"He's taken on the chair position of the physics department at Purdue."

"That's great. I wish him well."

"I'll let him know when I talk to him again."

Al was still reading his menu. "Hey, Sam. They show the chicken soup's the soup of the day. That might be a good thing to get."

Sam glanced over at Al, a look of question on his face that his friend seemed to be interrupting the conversation. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I was looking at that," Gooshie admitted. "I'm sure it's not as good as my sister's but whose is?"

"I was just thinking with that cold..." Al added.

Gooshie nodded. "Excellent for that. Are you coming down with something Dr. Beckett?"

"I said I'll keep it in mind," Sam said to Al. To Gooshie he added, "It's nothing. Al's just overreacting."

Dr LoNigro coughed. "In any case, Tim's told me they're planning to update the labs. Should allow for Mike Thompson's research in optics to attract a few more grad students."

"Is Mike still working on that research? I haven't really kept in touch with him the last couple of years." Sam cleared his throat hoping it would help to alleviate the cough he could feel coming.

"Yes. Has developed some interesting applications that may lead to the next generation of aeronautic windshields."

"That would be great," Al provided. "When you're flying as fast as some of those babies go, you need to be able to see clearly and safely."

"You were a pilot?" Dr. LoNigro asked.

"Yes. A fighter pilot and an astronaut."

"Interesting."

There was a bit more discussion about the general states of physics research when the waitress came back. The first three men ordered with Sam being the last.

"What can I get you, sir?"

"I think I'll get the seafood chowder to start off and broiled scallops."

"You sure, Sam?" Al asked. "The scallops would be good but the chowder's pretty heavy and..." He trailed of as Sam glared at him. "Of course, you get what you want."

"Gee, thanks for the permission. Any other suggestions you want to make?"

"I'm just trying to think of your health," Al said as he took a sip of his water.

"My health's just fine," Sam claimed.

"Ok. Sorry." Al stated.

Dr. LoNigro looked towards the waitress, "Would you also bring us a bottle of your Toasted Head Chardonnay?" She nodded and having taken the orders started to leave to put them in when Al called her back.

"Could I get a glass of iced tea, please?" he asked knowing that he wouldn't drink any of the wine. "You want anything, Kid?" he asked his friend assuming that, if he planned on taking any of the cold meds after lunch that he wouldn't drink the wine either.

"The water's fine," Sam responded.

"You sure you don't want anything else?" Al prompted.

"I said, the water's fine," Sam said in exasperation. When the waitress left, he added, "I know what I want, thank you very much."

Al held up his hands, warding off his friend's testiness. "Ok. I was just trying to help."

"Well, don't, ok. I can take care of myself."

Neither Al nor Sam caught the brief smirk on LoNigro's face at the testiness between the two of them. "Samuel, you didn't really tell me how the meeting went this morning. What other data do you need? Perhaps it's something I can assist with."

"It's being taken care of," Al responded. He'd hoped that topic of the Millennium Group could be put aside for now but it looked like LoNigro was determined to hear all about. "It's nothing really."

"I can speak for myself," Sam snapped at Al then turned to LoNigro. "There was just a mix-up with some of the financials, that's all. It made it hard to discuss some of the funding today so they're going to have to reschedule."

"Ah. Financials can certainly be a sticky wicket," LoNigro commiserated. "You know I've had more than my fair share of them over the years. Maybe there are some tricks I could show you to make the process a little easier."

"I'd appreciate that, Professor. It's never really been my strength."

LoNigro let out a laugh at Sam's admission. "You don't have to tell me that. Do you remember that year you asked me to help you with your tax returns. That was your first year at MIT, wasn't it?"

"Um, I think," Sam agreed. Some discomfort crept into his voice at the memory.

LoNigro either didn't hear the discomfort or he chose ignore it. He looked between Al and Gooshie and continued his story. "Sam showed up at my office with all of his paperwork, if you can call it that, stuffed into a brown paper sack. There was nothing organized. If that wasn't bad enough, he hadn't checked to see if the sack was empty before stuffing everything in. When we emptied it out, the rest of his lunch from the week before came out with everything else." He let out a laugh and reached over to clap Sam on the shoulder. "Oh, if you could have seen your face when you finally realized what had been causing the smell."

"Sam's come a long way," Al said in defense of his friend. He could see how LoNigro's story had embarrassed him. He didn't expect the glare he got from Sam for his words.

"So, Dr. Beckett, where do you plan on locating your project," Gooshie asked before Sam and Al could get into another heated exchange.

"We've been looking in the southwest. It's going to take some land to build it," Al supplied.

"My Dr. Beckett, your voice has changed," Sam said sotto voce as he gave Al a hard look.

Al didn't respond but instead shrugged slightly as if providing both an apology and questioning as to why it was important who had answered the query.

Dr. LoNigro's eyes grazed over the two men before he supplied, "The southwest has land and significant scientific facilities but it's certainly not the only place that would fit the need for land."

"We're really not that far along in deciding where the facility would be built. The southwest is a prime consideration but depending on other factors, it could be built elsewhere."

Al looked at Sam, his forehead scrunched lightly in question. "I thought we'd narrowed it down to..." He stopped again when a warning flashed from Sam's eyes. He wasn't sure why Sam was holding back but figured his friend has his reasons. They could certainly talk later about this particular part of the project design.

The waitress came back bringing the bottle of wine and four glasses and Al's glass of iced tea. "Your soups and salads will be out in a moment, gentlemen." She put the wine glasses in front of each man but only poured into Dr. LoNigro's glass to start. When he approved, she filled his glass before pouring into Gooshie's glass and when ready to pour into Al's, stopped when he put his hand over the glass.

"I won't have any, thank you. The tea's fine."

When the waitress moved over to him, and filled his glass, Sam didn't say anything. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to drink the wine the way he was feeling but, on the other hand, it would be rude not to at least have a few sips of it.

Al was surprised that Sam allowed the wine to be poured into his glass. He knew that he planned to take something for the cold when they got back to the room. As long as he'd known the younger man, he'd never mixed alcohol with medication of any kind - even aspirin. He wanted to say something but based on the responses he'd gotten from Sam up to that point, he figured he'd just ask him about it later.

"I'm sure the next time you meet those issues will be handled to the satisfaction of your investors. Since we will not be together then, I'd like to propose a preliminary toast to the success of your project."

The four men raised their glasses and Al noticed that Sam took the smallest of sips. At least the kid was being cautious.

Sam tried to hold back his distaste for the contents of the glass. Wine had never been a preferred drink for him and he doubted it ever would be. "I hope it's as successful as you think, Professor."

"You do recall, I was with you when you started to develop your theories deeper than just a concept. I remember that early work and I'm sure it's been refined since then. There was promise back then. Now, although I'm sure there will be more research needed, I don't doubt you have a quite viable plan."

"It's basically the same from when you helped me although I've done more work on it. Al's been helping me to refine some areas the last few years." Sam took another sip from the glass of wine then pushed it aside slightly hoping he'd met his social obligation.

The waitress returned to the table with the salads and soups that had been ordered. When the bowl of seafood chowder was put in front of him, Sam got a whiff of it and wished that he'd taken Al's advice and ordered the chicken soup instead of being stubborn. He gamely started spooning it up.

"I appreciated your letter, Dr. Beckett," Gooshie stated. "Your short description of the computer you wish to build was vague, but I think I get the gist of it. The innovations that will be necessary will, quite frankly, push the envelope of what is currently possible."

Sam ate one more spoonful of the chowder then, like the wineglass, pushed it slightly away from him. He'd eaten no more than four or five spoonful's of it. "I've looked into some of your work, Dr. Gooshman," he said, momentarily forgetting the man had asked him to call him by his shortened name. "If there's anyone out there who can help me reach those innovations, I know it's you."

"There are few challenges that would pull me away from academia. I believe this would be such a project. To be a part of the cutting edge research would be fulfilling."

Al nodded to Sam's soup, still more than half full. "Is your cold getting worse? You've hardly eaten any of your soup."

"What?" Sam asked looking over to Al. He was finding it hard to believe that in the midst of what was a business lunch, his friend kept worrying about personal issues. The fact that it was only a few hours before that Al had chastised him about his lack of a business mindset irritated Sam. "Its fine and stop the mama bear bit," he snapped. In his irritation, he failed to see that he wasn't being very businesslike either.

Al blinked. "Sorry, Sam." He smiled to the other two men. "If you'll excuse me?" He got up and headed towards the restroom.

Sam watched as Al walking off. "I'm sorry," he apologized to the other two men. "It's...uh...been a long week."

"No need to apologize, Samuel," Dr. LoNigro responded, a sly grin on his face under his more sympathetic visage. "I'm sure your friend is just doing his best to help you."

"Sometimes he gets carried away and forgets I'm an adult." Sam let out a breath and forced a smile to his face looking over to Gooshie. "That's not what you're here to hear about, though."

"My sister sometimes brings me tea when I'm in my study and is fussy about things so I understand. It's good you have a friend like that." Gooshie responded.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, his face softening. "Al is a good friend." He didn't see the flash of annoyance that crossed LoNigro face as he said it.

The three men resumed the conversation about Sam's planned project. The waitress was bringing out their entrees when Al returned to the table. As he sat down, Sam gave him a lopsided smile and half-shrug hoping it would smooth out the rough patch between them at the moment.

Putting his hand on Sam's shoulder to say all was forgiven he looked at his plate. "It's been awhile since I've had brisket like this."

Gooshie smiled. "When you come out to San Francisco, I'll have you over to the house. I'd never hear the end of it from Miriam if you don't."

"That would be great. I know Sam wants to spend more time talking with you about that part of the project. From what he's shown me about your work, I think it's a good idea. Hopefully, we'll be able to do that first quarter next year."

Conversation for the rest of lunch mostly revolved around Sam's plans for the project. Although he did his best to stop reacting to everything Al said, to his own dismay, he snapped at him a few more times.

Eventually, they were done eating and LoNigro signaled for the bill to be brought over saying that it would be his pleasure to take care of it. Sam put up a token argument but quickly acceded. He was finding it hard to shake the sort of awe he used to hold LoNigro in and was reverting back to the way he acted around him when he was student by deferring to him. Al noticed but didn't feel it wise to bring it to his friend's attention right now.

Once the bill had been paid, the four men left the restaurant. Sam and Al walked the other two to the hotel exit saying their goodbyes there before walking back to the elevator to go back to their room.

Once in the elevator, Sam seemed to deflate a little, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. "I guess that could have gone better."

"Yeah. But with what happened this morning and your cold, it's understandable."

"It's no excuse. I was using you as a verbal punching bag. That probably scared Gooshman off and I wouldn't blame him." He tried to draw a breath through his nose but it was so stuffed from the cold, he didn't get any air. "My head's starting to pound," he confessed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "This could not have had worse timing."

"You weren't feeling well. You get testy. I understand. As to Gooshie, I like him, although his breath leaves a great deal to be desired. If I read him right, I don't think you scared him off." He looked at Sam with sympathy. "Now when we get back to the room, you take those meds and get some rest." He paused. "I was surprised you drank any wine knowing you were going to take them. I've never seen you do that before."

"Possibly a medical condition," Sam conjectured concerning the scientist's halitosis. "And I drank the wine because I didn't want to be rude. Professor LoNigro was expecting me to drink it. What was I supposed to do?" The elevator doors opened and they got off.

Al pursed his lips. "For the past six years whenever Dr. LoNigro's been brought up, you sure didn't care for him. I know you think now you may have been wrong about what precipitated your leaving MIT...but...and don't get upset with me, Sam...I think you're going too far the other way."

They arrived at their room and Sam reached into his pocket for the keycard forgetting that he hadn't brought it with him. When he didn't find it, he moved back from the door to allow Al to open it. "You're just jealous," he stated.

Al pulled out his card and opened the door. "Jealous? You think that's it? I hate to tell you this, pal, but I have nothing to be jealous about."

"Then why did you keep interrupting? It's like you had to prove to...I don't know...him, me, yourself?...that you knew me better or something than he did."

Al's eyebrows rose slightly. "'You think that's what I was doing?"

"Wasn't it?" Sam challenged although his voice was unsure.

"Kid, you've got a blacktie with the people that may be funding your dream tomorrow night and you're coming down with one of your epic respiratory infections again. In six years, I have learned how fast and devastating they hit you and so if I try to suggest ways to keep one at bay, I guarantee I have that knowledge. I just want what's best for you, Sam. I'll admit I could have used more finesse, but you know it came from a good place."

Sam let out a breath knowing his friend was right. "I guess. Damn it," he grumbled, kicking the back of the armchair. "Why can't anything be easy?" He moved to the front of the chair and dropped to it. "How am I supposed to go to this thing tomorrow? You're right. It might be a cold today but, with my luck, it'll be bronchitis by tomorrow night." Under his breath he grumbled, "I knew I should have gotten that flu shot."

"Not if you take care of yourself." Al walked over to the counter and retrieved a glass of water and the box of cold meds. He brought them over to Sam. "Now, take these, get into your ratty sweats, and go to bed."

"It's too early for bed," Sam complained although he did take the water and the box of meds.

"Then stretch out on the couch and watch TV or something if you don't want to go bed. You rest and baby yourself for the next twenty-four hours and you should be good to go tomorrow night."

"What about all the other things that need to be done? Even if Sal's able to pull off tuxes for you and me, doesn't that mean we need other things? Like a shirt and stuff?"

"I know what size shirt you wear and know what we need to pull together a look." He saw Sam's skepticism. "You said it today, I can dress what you think constitutes an adult. I won't embarrass you, Kid. You just rest and I'll get everything else taken care of. Ok?"

"Don't have much…," Sam started to say but cut off by first a series of sneezes then a cough. "Don't have much choice he finished saying. He levered himself up from the chair and went into the bedroom to change. He came out a few minutes later dressed as Al had suggested. "What time are you supposed to meet Sal?"

"He said anytime this afternoon. I just want to make sure you're settled and don't need anything then I'll head over there."

"Cure for the common cold?" Sam asked with raised eyebrows.

"Sorry, Pal. I can't help you with that one. How about if you let me fix you some tea, though?"

"Tea sounds good," Sam agreed. He stretched out on the couch and reached for the TV remote - not that he thought he'd find anything good on in the afternoon.

Al made the tea and brought it over, putting it down on the coffee table. Before he left to meet with Sal, he went into Sam's bedroom and found a spare blanket in the closet. He brought that out and put it down on the armchair where Sam would know where it was. "I'll leave this here in case you get cold."

"I am," Sam answered after taking a sip from the tea. "I was going to ask you what the heat was set on."

"It's up, Sam." Al picked up the blanket from where he'd put it on the chair and, instead, spread it over Sam then rested his hand on his forehead. "You're a little warm right now. I'll pick some Tylenol up while I'm out. You want anything else?"

"You mind getting me a box of tissues and some Nyquil?" He coughed again. "Maybe some cough drops or something?"

"You got it." He pulled the extra box of tissues out of the bathroom and brought them to Sam. "I'll pick you up some softer tissues while I'm out. I'm sure you're going to feel like you're using sandpaper before the day's out. Just do me a favor and stay put and rest."

"I promise, I won't go anywhere." Sam reached for the cup of tea and took another sip from it. "I guess this puts an end to the sightseeing."

"It's for the best. Anyway, it's likely we'll be here again after the first of the year based on what Mr. Requin said this morning." Al grabbed his coat. "I'll be back as soon as I can." As he walked out the door, he heard Sam coughing again and sighed. He hoped he was right in his prognosis.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Al walked into Sal's Tailoring and smiled at the sound of the tinkling bell. It was a sound he'd heard many times over the years. He looked around the shop, neat in an uncontrolled sort of way. "Hey Sal," he called out, figuring his friend was in the backroom.

"That you, Al?" Hearing an affirmative, he finished, "Come on back."

Moving aside the curtain that separated the front room from the back Al walked into the main workroom. Here, there were projects in various stages of completion hung neatly on a rack. As he took off his coat, he noticed two black tuxes at the end. "Hi Sal. Those the two tuxes you found for Sam and me?"

"Well, don't you look fancy," he kidded Al about his ensemble of red slacks, a black shirt and a patterned vest to bring it all together. Al grinned with a 'you know me' look and the tailor continued, "Yeah. Brenda brought them over about an hour ago. They're a couple of years old but still should work for you. Pretty fancy party, huh."

"Sounds like it. The invite shows the Plaza Hotel."

Sal whistled. "You're definitely going to be rubbing shoulders with people with more than two pennies to rub together."

"They struck me as nozzles today but Sam's counting on them funding his project." Al frowned. "He's pretty stressed. I want this to go well for him."

Sal had retrieved his measuring tape and motioned Al to stand on a small platform. He started to measure. "You're really concerned about him, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I am. Sam's a good guy. I owe him a lot."

"You doing all this just because you owe him?"

"No. He's a friend, Sal. One of the best I've ever had." He paused. "You know how things got for me after Sharon left me."

"You were an _allocco_then, Al. I'm just saying the truth."

"You're right. But it was worse than that. Sam was the one to help me pull my head out of my ass. Without him…" He trailed off.

"Listen, if he's that good a friend, you're a lucky man. Tell Sam not to worry. I'll have everything ready for him." He stopped measuring. "Ok…you're done. I'll have the tuxes sent over to you by noon."

"Thanks, Sal. You're a good friend too."

"Yeah. Feels more like family sometimes."

Al smiled. "Ain't that the truth. See you later." He then left the shop to take on his next errand.

While Al was out, Sam lay on the sofa napping. He wasn't sure how long he'd been laying there when a noise at the door woke him up. He raised his head just in time to see it swing open. "Al?"

"Um...yeah. Sorry Kid. I didn't mean to wake you," Al replied, picking up one of the bags that had fallen. He looked inside. "Good. Nothing broke."

Seeing the number of bags his friend was carrying, Sam's eyebrows shot up. "What'd you buy? I didn't remember asking for that much stuff."

"You didn't. I just picked up a few more things than tissues and Tylenol."

"A few?" Sam pulled himself up so he was leaning against the arm of the couch. "It looks you like you bought the place out."

"Not even close. Just what's needed," Al answered. He walked over to the chair and started pulling things out. "Ok, tissues...the really soft kind...Tylenol, a couple of word searches and cross word books, a few magazines, a nov..."

"Woah...explain to me how cross words are needed...and did you get the Nyquil and cough drops?"

"Of course I got those," Al answered. "You're sick...you always do better with Nyquil. As to the crosswords and stuff...if you're stuck here all day tomorrow, you'd be pacing the floor if you didn't have something to do and you need rest."

"I've got the book I'm reading. You didn't have to buy all that." Sam got up to go into his bedroom to get his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

"You don't owe me anything. If you don't use them, I'll put 'em in one of those donation bins for Christmas presents. Someone will enjoy them"

"But what about the other stuff that I am going to use?"

"Like what?"

"The tissues and Nyquil and stuff. I'm going to use that."

"Hey, don't worry about it. It wasn't a big deal."

"I wish you'd let me pay but...thank you." Sam went back to the couch, pulling the blanket around himself.

"Hey...you can buy me tissues next time I get sick.

"Like that happens a lot."

Al ignored Sam's sarcastic remark. "I also got you popsicles...which I'll put in the freezer of the mini fridge...ginger ale, and Jello...and no, I didn't get you the green kind."

Sam blew out a small breath. Al had definitely gone into full-on mother-hen mode. "We're leaving the day after tomorrow. What am I supposed to do with all that?"

"Eat what you want and we'll toss the rest. Like I said, it's not that much."

"I guess. Feels like a waste, though." Sam rubbed his forehead and grimaced. "I've got such a headache right now. This really, really sucks."

Al picked up the Tylenol bottle and pulled a small penknife out of his pocket. He cut the seal and handed the bottle back to Sam. "I'll get you some water unless you want something else."

"Water's fine." While Al went to the sink to get the water, Sam looked at the other boxes of medication on the table. In addition to the Tylenol and Nyquil, there was also a box of a non-drowsy cold medication as well as a cough suppressant. "I think you've got all the bases covered."

"I do my best," Al said as he brought the filled glass back.

"I guess you do that." Sam accepted the water and took the Tylenol then lay back down. "I keep sleeping this afternoon and I'm going to awake all night but I'm so tired."

"We could watch something on TV, movie or something. I think it would be best to have room service tonight, assuming you're hungry at all."

"I guess." Sam reached for one of the crossword puzzle books Al had put on the coffee table. "Maybe if I try one of these it'll keep me awake for a while.

Al smiled. He'd been through Sam's colds before. Early on, he'd run up against the fact that the kid needed more than one thing to keep from climbing the walls. His mother had suggested the word play books during one of the phone calls she'd made during one of those events. "That sounds like a good idea."

For the next hour, the only sounds in the room were the TV and Sam sneezing, coughing and sniffling. "You don't have to wait for me if you want to order dinner."

"I got a snack while I was out. I'm not hungry yet. You let me know when you are, though." Al replied. He'd been watching the weather during the news programs. "Good news is the weather will be decent tomorrow. At least you won't have to battle the elements and your cold."

"Oh joy." Sam tossed the book on the coffee table. He hadn't made much headway, the cold making it hard to concentrate. "It's probably not a good idea for me to not show up tomorrow, I guess."

Al was silent for a moment. Finally he said sighing, "It's a toss-up. You could call and say you're sick and they may accept that. Then again, it could put the cabash on the whole thing. My guess is probably the latter." His gut had told him during their meeting earlier that day that the people Sam was seeking funding from weren't the forgiving kind.

"It was just a thought." Sam was silent for a moment thinking. "I didn't realize when I started all of this how complicated it was all going to be. I don't understand this whole dog and pony thing. Can't they just look at the proposal and decide whether they want to invest in it or not. I feel like I have to perform or something except I'm not sure what I'm supposed to perform."

Al licked his lips slightly. This was one of the reasons that he'd felt seeking government funding would be better but he'd agreed to help Sam down this path. It wasn't that he wouldn't have to do some of this for government funding…it just wasn't as capricious. "It's just the way of business. You're asking them for a lot of money. If they buy into it, part of what they'll want is the cachet that you bring to the project as well. After all, you've won a Nobel and that's the type of accomplishment that people are aware of as an award even if they don't really understand what's behind it. Like when a writer can say they've won the Pulitzer. That's generally all most people hear and they base their opinions on that rather than finding out what was done to deserve it." He didn't bother to point out that it was also the very reason that Sam was going to use his admiral status.

"So, you mean they'll expect me to show up at more of these things?" That was a consideration that had never crossed Sam's mind. He'd thought he'd meet, get the funding, and then be able to do his work. He assumed he'd have to justify the funding from time to time but the picture Al was painting seemed quite different.

"It's definitely a possibility. I can't say for sure, of course, but I've seen it happen."

"Oh joy, something to look forward to."

Al shrugged. "You decided you wanted to pursue private money."

"I know...and I still do. I just didn't realize so much would be involved. Still, if it means I get the funding for the project, I guess I'll just have to play the part of their performing chimp."

"Yeah. Do what they ask and you'll be swimming in bananas."

"Stop it, Al. I know you don't want me to go the private route but just stop it. It's not going to be as easy as I'd hoped it was and if you keep picking it all apart, that's not making it any easier either."

"I'm not picking it apart. You were the one that suggested the chimp idea...I'm just agreeing with you."

"Swimming in bananas? That's not your way of saying that's all it's going to be." Sam got up from the couch to get more water. He swayed a little when he got to his feet and had to wait a second for his equilibrium to even out.

Al noticed Sam's dizziness and was on his feet ready to catch him if he fell. All thought of their discussion falling away. "What do you need, kid? I can get it for you. Last thing you need is to bonk your head on the coffee table."

"Water. I can get it."

"Yeah, but..." he started to respond.

"But what? It's just water." Sam picked up the glass and went into the bathroom to fill it.

"I know. I guess it's just that these colds often morph. I just want you to get better."

"And I was hoping it would get worse?" Sam asked sarcastically when he came back from the bathroom.

"You know what I mean, Sam." He got up and went over to the counter were the room service menu was. "I think I'll get something after all."

"I know," Sam agreed, the sarcasm dropping from his voice. "You just keep doing this mama bear thing…and I guess I keep punching back."

"Yeah, well. I know I can go over the top sometimes." He paused as he scanned the menu. "And, really, Kid. I want tomorrow night to be successful for you. I know how much getting the project up and running means to you. Oh...I meant to ask you. Today you said that we might not build in the southwest. I thought we agreed that it would probably be best with some of the equipment we're going to have to build."

"Probably but I want to keep my...our options open. Maybe building somewhere else is cheaper. Or maybe not being in the middle of the desert means we can get more people to agree to come on the project." Sam sat on the couch again, sipping at the water. "I just don't want to cut off all our options."

"Ok. That makes sense." He brought the menu over to the desk where the phone was. "You want anything? Soup maybe?"

Sam waved off the menu. "I don't know. I'm not really hungry but I should eat. Just…get me something."

Al nodded and called in the order which included a bowl of chicken soup and a turkey sandwich for Sam. His own order was a pasta primavera. Although Al didn't always order a dessert, tonight he did asking for a slice of their triple chocolate cake.

Sam looked up. "Chocolate cake? What's going on, Al?"

"What?"

"You go for the chocolate when you're stressed out."

"Not always. I just wanted something sweet. You know I've got a sweet tooth."

"You know, as much as you may have learned about me the past few years, the same could be said the other way."

"Well...maybe. You gotta admit this week's been difficult."

"Difficult for me, maybe. You're along for the ride, remember? Now what gives? And don't talk around it 'cause I don't think my head can figure things out right now."

Al thought for a moment. "You won't want to hear it."

"Yes, I do. Tell me."

"Something just doesn't seem right about all this. Don't get me wrong, I support what you're doing but..." He let out a breath. "I guess I'm just concerned you're putting a lot of faith in people that may not deserve it."

Sam took in what Al said and mulled it over for a moment before responding. "Six years ago, don't you think that's what Steve Matthews said to me? He was wrong. You may be right this time, I won't totally dismiss that but…what if you're wrong. Shouldn't I, at least, try?"

Al gave Sam a weak smile. "When you put it like that...I just hope you're right this time too."

"I do too. But, if I'm not, at least I know I've got someone in my corner."

"You can count on that, Kid. You can count on it."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The night before had gone quietly. The men had eaten dinner, watched a little TV, and went to bed early. Sam had taken Nyquil and initially, he'd slept. Al, on the other hand had been on pins and needles, listening for the slightest sound. He'd finally fallen asleep around midnight.

Around two am, the situation had changed. When the Nyquil began to wear off, the younger man had a harder time sleeping. He'd gotten up, finding himself restless. Al had come out to see what was going on but Sam chased him back to bed. After that, he took more Nyquil even though he didn't really want to. If he didn't, not only would he not get any sleep, it was likely Al wouldn't either.

Al had gotten up at nine and ordinarily, he'd be surprised that Sam wasn't up before him but, under the circumstances, it was expected. After taking care of his morning business in the bathroom, Al crept into Sam's room to check on him and found him still sleeping. He took a chance that he'd wake his friend by brushing his hand over his forehead checking to see if he were feverish. Although warm, Sam wasn't burning up with fever.

He'd started to the door when he heard his name. Turning, he moved back to his friend. "How are you feeling, Kid?" He felt he knew but it was always good to ask.

"I've felt better," Sam answered sitting up and leaning against the pillows. "I've also felt a whole lot worse so I guess that's something."

"Sort of the half empty, half full glass?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure if I'd rather it be all the way full or all the way empty."

"Well...you're going to have the whole day to decide."

"Do I get to get out of bed?" Sam asked half in jest.

"I wouldn't suggest it. Better to give your body all the rest it needs to beat this thing."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah, I am. Keep taking drowsy cold meds if you have to. I sometimes think that getting colds is your body's way of getting you to catch up on sleep."

"I sleep." Seeing the look on Al's face, Sam amended, "I get enough sleep."

"You think you get enough sleep." Seeing Sam's glare, he amended. "And maybe you're right but today, you don't have anything to do but sleep. I'll be out most of the day running around anyways so you won't be disturbed."

"Well, I can't stay in bed all the time. I have to get up for some things...and where are you going today?"

"When you need to, ok. As for me...we do need a few things. Shirts for the tuxes for one. Sal was able to get us shoes to go with the tuxes so we don't need to buy those but we'll need socks. A few other things."

"Few other things," Sam echoed. "How much is this all going to co…" He was cut off by a cough.

"Don't worry about that. Sal's told me who to go to for wholesale prices. Good quality too."

Sam started to respond but was again cut off by a cough. He pantomimed drinking hoping it would spur Al to get him a glass of water.

Al caught on to what Sam was asking for and quickly retrieved the water. Sam was still coughing when he brought the glass too him.

Sam accepted the glass of water and took a sip hoping it would help to control the cough. Eventually, it tapered off. "I really hope this doesn't get worse than a cold."

"You and me both, Kid. Now take my advice and stay put. You want something for breakfast or just tea and toast?"

"Not toast. I'd rather have oatmeal or something like that."

"Ok. I'll order that and my breakfast and then I'd better get going."

"I'm sorry you have to do all the work, Al."

"Hey, it's ok. I really don't mind," the older man said as he went out the door to the common area. He was back a few minutes later with the books, magazines, and other things to keep his friend occupied which he placed on one of the bedside tables. "I've got your meds laid out on the bathroom counter. Don't forget you have Jello and popsicles in the fridge."

Sam heaved a sigh. "You're making me feel like invalid, you know."

"I know you're not...but I also know that as soon as I leave, if you need anything, you'll be up and down and it'll sort of defeat the reason I got all this stuff." He put his hand up when Sam started to object, "I know, I know. You didn't ask for most of it. But since it's here, you might as well keep yourself busy when you're not sleeping."

"Well, you do something fun today, ok? I hate to think you're out shopping a few days before Christmas...even if it is wholesale."

Al laughed. "Hey, you're the one that doesn't like shopping, not me. I'll have a blast. Might even pick up a few extra things for myself."

"Um...you might not want to pick up too much. Remember, it's all got to fit in our suitcases."

"Why? I can ship it back." Seeing the look of surprise on Sam's face he smiled. "Don't worry about it. I'm not going to fill up the whole suite." When Sam accepted that, he added, "Just half of it."

Sam let out a theatrical groan. "Instead of building the project, we should just build an addition to the house for all your stuff."

"There you go," Al responded. He heard a knock at the door to the hall. "Sounds like our breakfast."

"There I go again what?" Sam got out of bed and followed Al out the common room. He waited until after he'd taken care of their breakfast delivery then asked again, "There I go again what?"

"Huh? I didn't say that."

"You didn't say that?" Sam rubbed at his ear. "My ears are plugged up. Did I hear you wrong?"

Al blinked putting together what had just been said. Then he smiled. "You just added something. You said we should just build an addition to the house instead of getting funding for the project. I agreed by saying 'there you go.' I don't know why you added the 'again' unless you were channeling Reagan."

"Um….ok"

Al put Sam's oatmeal at the seat he'd been taking for their meals. He'd also ordered some orange juice in a pitcher and poured some out for the two of them. "I'll put the rest in the fridge after breakfast. The vitamin C should help, right?"

Sam sat at the table. "You know, there's really no scientific evidence that it helps once you've got a cold. It can help to prevent…" He trailed off seeing the deflated look on Al's face. "Fluids help."

"Well, I got it part right." Al pulled the silver lid off his own breakfast. He'd ordered an egg white omelet with a garnish of orange and plate of toast. In comparison to the breakfast he'd ordered the first morning in the hotel, it was light. He hadn't seen any reason to stress his friend out by ordering an unhealthy meal that would only get the younger man to worrying about his health.

"I'm impressed," Sam said when he saw what Al had ordered for breakfast. "You've got something there that's not likely to kill you."

"I figure tonight's offerings aren't going to be so healthy. I want to be prepared."

"No. I don't expect an event like this would really put healthy first." Sam stirred his oatmeal but, before he could take a bite, he let out a sneeze. "Rate I'm going, the whole thing won't be too healthy tonight. I wonder if they'd be willing to give me the funding if I end up infecting everyone."

"We'll just make sure you're dosed with the cold meds before we leave. You do that and get a lot of rest today and they won't even know you're under the weather." Seeing the skeptical look on Sam's face, Al added, "Trust me."

"I trust you. It' the virus I don't trust."

"It's going to be ok, Sam," Al soothed. "Now, eat up and once you're done, I'll change the bandage on your arm before I leave."

Sam didn't know how long he'd been sleeping when the sound of the phone ringing pulled him from his slumber. He figured that Al must still be out or he'd probably never have even heard it as deep into the dream as he'd been. Even now, the remnants of that dream were clearer than the act of answering the phone. "Hello," he said groggily, his nose somewhat stuffy.

"Ah, Samuel. I'm glad I was able to reach you before I catch my flight back to Boston."

"Huh? Dr. LoNigro?"

"Correct, Samuel. I must have caught you at a bad time. You sound congested."

"Yeah, that cold I was getting yesterday's been bothering me. I was just sleeping." Sam pushed up so that he was sitting with the pillows bunched up behind him.

"I won't keep you then. I just wanted to say how nice it's been to catch up with you this week." He paused and when he spoke again, his words were laced with concern. "It may not be my place to say this but I was concerned for you at the restaurant yesterday."

"Huh? Why?"

There was a slight hesitation before LoNigro started to speak. He sounded almost reluctant. "Admiral Calavicci I'm sure means well but he does appear to treat you as less than competent. Surely, you can make your own decisions as to what's healthy. After all, as I recall, obtaining your MD was one of your many accomplishments."

"He just overreacts sometimes. It comes from a good place."

"Yes…well…I just feel that while it might be acceptable for family to say such things…it seems presumptuous that he would do so. Almost as if he's trying to be your father." Some of the reluctance left LoNigro's voice as he pointed out, "You only had one and he was a fine man. Quite a shame you lost him so young." His voice took on sympathy at the end.

Sam felt a lump in his throat at the reminder of that time of his life. "It was difficult as I'm sure you remember."

"I do." LoNigro paused then continued in another vein. "Oh, I may have a lead on some land in western Massachusetts that could be perfect for your project. I was surprised at the Admiral's assumption that you'd already decided on where to build it. Almost like he expects you to get permission from him for any decisions you make."

"No," Sam disagreed once more defending Al's actions. "It's just that we'd been talking about that recently. He just misunderstood my position. That's all. He knows I don't need his permission."

"I hope you're right, Samuel. I hope you're right." The concern was once more in LoNigro's voice. "I myself feel that as the lead, they are your decisions and it's the role of the team members to follow your ideas and not the other way around. The admiral doesn't seem to understand that at all." There was another slight beat before he finished. "My flight is ready to board. I wish you well, my boy. Let me know when you want to discuss further how I can help you with your project."

"I will, Professor. I'd like to bounce some ideas off of you, if that's ok."

"Of course it is. I'm at your service. Now I really must go or I'll miss my flight."

"Thanks for calling."

"Of course. I hope you feel better soon."

Hearing the click on the other side, Sam put the phone back into the cradle. He was slightly more awake and considered getting up but his body was still craving sleep. Punching the pillow down, he lay back down. He closed his eyes and quickly fell back into a different dream.

It was early afternoon when Al returned to the hotel from his errands. He opened the door and came in a quietly as he could not wanting to wake Sam if he'd fallen asleep. The common area was empty and he saw the door to Sam's room closed so he correctly guessed that's where he was.

After putting his purchases down on the table, he went to Sam's room and nudged the door open enough that he could poke his head in and see if his friend was sleeping or awake.

"You can come in," Sam said when he saw the door opening. "I'm awake."

Receiving the invitation, Al pushed the door open completely and walked into the room. "I thought you might be sleeping. I didn't want to wake you up."

"I've been sleeping on and off since you left. I can't keep doing that, though, if I want to sleep tonight."

"That's true," Al agreed. "I'm glad to hear you took my advice and have been resting up, though."

Something about what Al said annoyed him slightly. Sam turned off the TV and tossed the remote down on the bed. His answer was a little sharper than he intended. "Not totally. It's been such a nice, bright, cold, wintery day; I thought it was a good time to take a jog along with the water. You know, get the heart pumping and all that."

Al eyed his friend unsure if he was hearing the truth or if his leg was being pulled. He decided it was the latter based partly on the other man's tone. Sam frequently had a tendency to push too hard when he wasn't at his best physically, but he knew he wasn't that foolish. "I know you've been wanting to get out and do more running, Kid," he said as he played along.

"Did you get everything?" Sam asked changing the subject.

"It's in the other room and I also picked up some lunch at that little bakery - just some soup and sandwiches. Sal stop by with the tuxes?"

"Not yet." Sam got out of bed and followed Al back out to the common room. He called about a half hour ago and said he was running late but that he'd have them here by two thirty at the latest.

"Ok. That's good. Anything else happen while I was gone?" he asked conversationally, and added with a glint in his eye, "Other than you taking a jog by the Hudson?"

Sam had the impression of...something...a phone call?...but he wasn't sure if that was reality or dream. "Um...no," he answered erring on the side of the probable phone call being a dream.

"I'm glad. Peaceful day then."

"Um...yeah. I'm even feeling a little better."

"See, I knew some rest would help you," Al said with a smile. "Now c'mon and eat up. You get something solid into you and a little more rest this afternoon and you'll be good to go for tonight."

Sam followed Al's directions sitting at the table. He ate most of the sandwich and soup his friend had brought for him. The rest, it seemed, had coaxed his appetite into returning.

They were just finishing their meal when Sal knocked on the door with their tuxes. Once they'd both tried them on to suit the tailor and he was on his way, Al sent Sam over to the couch with his book while he cleaned up from lunch.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in quiet companionship. At five, Al told Sam he was going to take a shower. Once he was out, Sam took his turn in the bathroom as well after having Al prepare his arm. Both men went into their bedrooms to dress.

"Do I look ok?" Sam asked coming out of his bedroom. Unlike the other night, he asked with genuine concern this time.

Al looked his friend over critically and could find nothing wrong with his appearance. He was still a little pale from the cold but, other than that, he looked ready for the event. "You look great, Kid. Why would you even question that?"

"I don't know." Sam tugged at the bow tie pulling it crooked.

Al moved over to his friend and straightened the tie then brushed imaginary lint from the shoulders of his jacket. "Trust me. You look great."

Sam started to fidget, tugging at the cuffs of the shirt. "I've never been to anything like this...at least not for this reason. What if I don't know how to act or what if I do something foolish?"

"There's nothing to worry about, Kid. All you need to do is be your charming self and everyone's gonna love you. It's no different from other blacktie events you've gone to. Don't even worry about discussing the financials. That's not what they'll be interested in tonight. Just follow the manners your mother taught you." When Sam sneezed, he added, "…and don't sneeze or cough on anyone. Just calm down and stop worrying. I bet by the end of tonight you're gonna have them eating out of your hand and begging you to take their money."

"Yeah. Begging me to take their money. Like that actually happens," Sam replied, somewhat sarcastically.

"Well...maybe not but I'm sure you're going to do just fine."

Grabbing their coats, they headed down to the catch a cab to the event. As they were passing the front desk, the clerk called out, "Dr. Beckett? Something was just delivered for you. I was going to send it up."

"Who would send something to me?" he asked as he took the large envelope. The logo and address of the Millennium Group was in the return address section. "I'd better open this," he told Al nodding to the seating area of the lobby. The two went to sit down and Sam nervously opened it. When he pulled out the documents inside, he voiced a simple "Oh" as he pulled out the documents.

"Oh what?" Al asked wanting to know what was in the envelope.

"They typed up my homework," he said scanning it. "Looks ok," he told Al before handing it over.

Al looked at what had been typed up in proper format. He was concerned with how specific Sam had been but seeing the kid's worried face only nodded. "The numbers look reasonable." The relief on Sam's face was palpable and he relaxed hearing Al's words. Not wanting to say anything to bring back the concern, Al decided they could talk later about his concerns. "Why don't I take this back upstairs? You stay here and I'll be back in a minute."

Sam nodded. "Ok. I'll be here."

A few minutes later, Al was back. "Let's get this show on the road."

The ride into the city was quiet. Sam was too tense thinking about the night ahead and Al felt it was best not to say anything at the moment. It was just as likely anything he said would add more stress to Sam than it would lessen it.

As the cab pulled up and stopped in front of the Plaza Hotel, a doorman approached the cab to open the door. "Showtime, Kid," Al said softly. "Try not to look like a deer."

"What do you mean a deer?"

"I know you're nervous, kid, but don't let them see that."

"Yeah, ok." Sam moved to get out of the open door, waiting on the sidewalk until Al had paid the cabbie and exited as well.

They walked into the elegantly decorated hotel and received directions to the event. At the door, they gave their names at which point the attendant checked a list. Receiving permission to enter, they walked into the room.

Al looked over to Sam who appeared slightly nervous at the view. "Just think Cary Grant, kid. I know you've seen a lot those old movies."

"I'm no Cary Grant," Sam whispered as he tried to stifle a sneeze. "And I don't remember him ever being dosed on cold meds."

Al shrugged. "Who knows? Judy Garland was on drugs and no one knew. Cary may have done scenes with cold meds."

Sam was about to point out that Al wasn't really helping when he saw Fiona Nicholas heading their way. He put on what he hoped was a charming smile.

"Dr. Beckett. I'm so glad you've arrived. Mr. Requin has asked me to keep an eye out for you and Admiral Calavicci," she said as she reached them. She was wearing an emerald green dress that set off her auburn hair perfectly.

"It's very nice to see you again, Ms. Nicholas."

"There are a number of Millennium Group's board members here tonight and I know they'll want to meet you."

Sam traded a quick, nervous glance with Al. "I'm looking forward to meeting them."

"Then shall we start?" She walked over to a small group of several older men and their escorts. While two of the men were likely with their wives based on similar ages, one gentleman was with a much younger woman. "I'd like to introduce you to Markus and Ann Sartin, Joseph and Melissa Shanks, and Thomas Martin and Laura Handy." She then reversed the invitation finishing with, "Dr. Beckett won the Nobel prize in physics."

"Yes. I remember that," Markus Sartin responded. "I read about it in _Time_. Something about activities of quantum particles or some such thing wasn't it?"

"That's correct, Mr. Sartin." Sam was about to launch into a complete explanation when he felt Al kick him lightly in the ankle. He took that to mean that he shouldn't offer an explanation – at least without it being asked for.

"They called him the next Einstein," Mr. Sartin continued for the rest of the group who indicated approval.

"You're such a young man to accept such a prestigious award," Melissa Shanks commented.

Sam smiled, tamping down a desire to sigh in frustration. Why that was the quote everyone remembered who recalled the magazine article he'd never know. "Thank you. It was an honor to be compared with Albert Einstein."

Al smiled as well. "Sam's research has covered a broad range. The Nobel only covered part of what he's been working on."

"I understand you're a partner in his company?" Thomas Martin queried.

"Yes. We worked together on a previous project and when Sam decided to start his own firm, he asked me to join him."

The conversation continued for a while before Ms. Nicholas led them to another group. Sam felt like a prize cow at the county fair, being shown into the ring to win 'best of show.' Looking around, he had to admit that the metaphor wasn't the best one. All about him the ambiance was money and what, to him, was pretentious elegance. He had to admit, though, that many of the women at the event were nothing short of jaw-dropping gorgeous. He looked to Al to see how he was handling that particular reality and was surprised to see his friend's eyes focused on the conversations at hand rather than what to Sam had become his preoccupation with the pursuit of women. He felt no small sense of relief when the cocktail hour ended and the event moved to another room set for dinner. Names had been set at the tables. Fiona pointed Al to one table before indicating to Sam that he would be seated at the table with the CEO. He asked for a moment with his friend and she indicated where the table was located. She then walked off.

Al pointed out the obvious under his breath, "They're separating us."

"Yeah. I noticed. I am paying attention, you know," Sam quietly said with a hint of annoyance. The next second, though, he added somewhat contritely, "Sorry. It's just nerves. I was expecting that we'd sit together. Maybe they can change the seating?"

"That would be considered audacious, Kid. Besides, I think it was planned that way. Since they have you sitting with Requin, though, be careful."

"Careful? Why?"

"He's the head honcho. I know you don't like being under a microscope, but for something like this, it's part of the process." When Sam's eyes mirrored his concern, Al patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. Just keep your dinner conversation relevantly innocuous but interesting."

"You're kidding," Sam responded. Seeing Al's visage was unchanged, he finished, "Right. Channel Cary Grant," Sam finished, feeling like he'd just reached the next level in a video game. He smiled at Fiona Nicholas who was standing by a table. "I can do this," he repeated from his mantra said right before the presentation before moving over to the indicated table.

Al watched his friend walk off and silently cursed the Millennium Group's plan. He knew that Sam was quite competent in most situations but the kid had never been entirely comfortable when he was the subject of extreme scrutiny - especially at formal events. He wished that Sam could wrap himself in Grant's mantle. It would be easier for his friend to deal with such situations if he could do so 'under cover.' He then went to the table to which he'd been assigned, greeting his dinner companions amicably.

Mr. Requin smiled as Sam sat down a few seats away from him, the Sartins in between them. Fiona Nicholas had been seated as the CEO's partner. He also recognized the CTO he'd met earlier who was seated with his wife. Sam tried to place the woman seated next to him and realized as his eidetic memory kicked in that she was on the cover of a Vogue magazine that he'd seen at Katie's house. She was dressed in a form fitting red dress that nicely accentuated her many physical assets. He glanced at the small name card at her place setting to ascertain her name, Claudette Herbert.

"I hope you've been enjoying the evening, Dr. Beckett," Requin opened.

"Yes. I've enjoyed meeting your colleagues."

"And, should everything proceed as I hope, yours as well."

"Yes," Sam responded taking a sip from the glass of water before him, noting that scratch in his throat that had started to make its presence known.

"Maurice tells me you're a famous scientist," Claudette said with a smile.

"I...um...am a scientist. I don't know about famous."

"He's modest," Mrs. Sartin responded. "I find that extremely attractive in a person, scientist or not" she said, approval in her voice.

Sam blushed, "Thank you, ma'am."

Claudette leaned into him, a subtle scent of her perfume wafting up to his nose. "I couldn't agree more," she added, her tone indicating it wasn't just his modesty she found attractive.

Sam looked away and noticed Requin observing his reactions. For a moment, he considered if receiving funding was worth his embarrassment but immediately quashed the idea. Instead he internally repeated the mantra as he smiled coyly, deciding that if he was going to swim with the sharks, he wasn't going to be eaten alive. As he had earlier, he borrowed the persona he'd thought he'd be using when he'd joined Starbright and mixed in a bit of the debonair screen actor's as well. "High praise indeed from such beautiful women."

His play must have hit the right note based on the look between Requin and Mr. Sartin. _First hurdle cleared_. During the remainder of dinner, the volley's continued - Sam feeling he held his own using the borrowed personality to play the game. As with lunch the day before, wine was served with dinner and Sam allowed his glass to be filled not wanting to be seen as rude. He tried to limit the amount of wine he drank knowing he'd taken the cold meds before leaving the hotel. That plan was made more difficult by the constant refilling of his glass. Although it made him a bit more light headed than normal, he wasn't too worried by the amount and he had to admit, it helped him relax and maneuver during the meal. He figured that was going well based on the reactions he read on the faces of the table occupants. He eventually became comfortable enough to tell a few well received stories including one about a rather difficult dig during an archeological expedition to the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. He did need to get up once during dinner to go to the restroom to take another tablet so his relief would last another four hours. The last thing he wanted was his cold to get in the way of making a good impression.

After the meal, there was a short speech from Mr. Requin to the attendees providing a short thanks for their contributions to the Millennium Group's health. Sam was slightly surprised when he was acknowledged as a distinguished scientist that hopefully would begin an exciting project early the following year under Millennium Group's auspices. After the speech, the wall that had previously separated the dining area from where they had started with cocktails, was opened, the space now set with a band, dance floor, and several sitting areas.

As soon as the Requin finished and people got up to move, Al made his way over to Sam. He read the kid's body language and was relieved to find him relaxed. "I guess things went well at dinner?"

"Yeah. They went fine. I was a little nervous at first but that only lasted a few minutes." He smiled. "See that woman over there?" he said, nodding slightly to Claudette, who was standing with Fiona and Requin in a small group.

"Yeah. I noticed her sitting next to you at dinner. Quite a looker."

"Hard not to notice her. That's Claudette Herbert. She's one of the top models at Vogue."

"Well, that's one trick that I'm sure fizzled out like wet powder," Al replied dryly.

"What? What trick?"

"Setting you up with a gorgeous dame."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "What is it with you? You think every situation has some hidden agenda? You think the only reason she'd be interested in me is because she's being used to take me off my guard? It may come as a surprise to you but I'm not some wet behind the ears hayseed that needs your expert navigation skills every moment to get me through this evening."

Al blinked at Sam's reaction. "You feeling alright?"

"I'm feeling fine, Al. Better than I have in a while. I thought I blew everything yesterday but if I'm reading the cards being dealt tonight, I was worried for nothing." He noticed Claudette turn and smile at him. "I think I should go back now. Just stop worrying about me, ok? I'm a big boy, remember."

While wary about Sam's sudden change in attitude, much less behavior, Al decided that pushing the kid would only make matters worse. "Ok Sam. I'm glad it's going well. I guess if you don't need me with you, I'll just continue to mingle, maybe dance some.

"Good. You do that...and for one night, turn off the mother hen act...ok?"

"Ok." He watched Sam walk back to the woman, raising his eyebrows as his friend wrapped an arm around her waist. He shrugged figuring maybe Sam found a way to embrace that mantle after all. Not wanting to let the night go to waste, he worked the room. At least afterwards they could compare notes although at this point, it looked like they'd be getting to know these people better into the future.

Al kept an eye as best he could on Sam. Each time he looked, the kid's body language continued to tell him that everything was going well. It was obvious that the people he talked with were happy with the interaction. Once or twice, Sam even took Claudette for a spin on the dance floor, again surprising Al with his ability to handle the more formal affair. A one point, though, he noticed from the dance floor that Requin had pulled Sam over to a sitting area. Figuring it wouldn't hurt to check in with his friend he waited until the dance was finished before thanking the woman and moving towards the small group.

He smiled wryly seeing Claudette sitting beside Sam on the couch, her body pressed as close to him as could be considered acceptable in a public venue. While Sam was sure that her apparent forwardness wasn't for nefarious reasons, Al was still suspicious. It disturbed him a bit that the kid was showing an interest back. It wasn't the fact that the interest was there, of course. Any man would have to be dead not to react positively to her advances. Still, in all the times that he'd been around his friend where women were concerned Sam definitely didn't usually show the attraction that Al read in his current actions. As he moved closer, he heard his friend's response to Requin's apparent question. "Yes, we'll require a significant amount of land for the project. The radium ring alone will require at least three miles radius."

Sam was still obviously providing more detailed information than necessary at this point in their negotiations. The radium ring was part of the time travel segment and Al knew Sam's plan wasn't to go there yet. The concern Al had felt when he'd seen the financials came back full force. Keeping his game face on, he tried to caution Sam. "I thought tonight business talk would be off limits," he said with a smile.

"It's not business," Sam quickly responded. "I was just telling Mr. Requin about how much land we'd be looking for. That's all."

"Uh huh." Al took a good look at Sam. It didn't seem as if his friend's eyes were exactly focusing. He knew he'd taken the cold medication before leaving the hotel as well as some of the cough syrup he'd bought. He wondered if the kid had been foolish enough to mix that with alcohol in the interest of not being rude. The brandy snifter's on the table weren't exactly reducing that concern. If that were the case, it was likely Sam wasn't firing on all cylinders right now and was liable to give away too much. If he did that, the Millennium Group could potentially just bring on another physicist to replace Sam and steal his project right out from under him. "Sam, I need to talk with you about something," he completed hoping he could get the kid away from Requin and find out what the hell was going on.

"Sure," Sam agreed but didn't get up. "What's up?"

"Um...in private. It's sort of a sensitive subject."

Sam looked at Requin and Claudette. "We don't have any secrets, do we Al? What's so sensitive?"

Noticing an almost gleeful expression in Requin's eyes, Al forged ahead, determined to get Sam away from him. "It's personal."

"Personal?" This time Sam did get up and took a step in Al's direction. He stumbled slightly, the medication he'd taken and the alcohol combining to leave him unsteady. "What's so important it can't wait?" he asked annoyed.

"Can we please find someplace else to talk," Al almost begged. He was certain now that something was seriously wrong with his friend and was able to smell the alcohol on his breath confirming his suspicion. At this point, he wasn't sure that the people they were dealing with were not above spiking Sam's drink even if the kid had been foolish with mixing his cold meds and alcohol.

The CEO spoke up, apparently concerned with the changing situation. "I'm sure that your conversation can wait until later, Admiral. While Sam's right that we were just discussing some minor things, it may help the Millennium Group decide whether to fund his project or not."

"We can talk later, at the hotel," Sam said firmly and dismissively then resumed his seat between Requin and Claudette.

The model smiled as Sam sat down beside her but it was Requin that caused Al's nozzle detector to shoot through the roof. The slight upturn of the man's mouth along with the crimping in his eyes...a cat with the canary look if he ever saw one...spoke volumes to him. He started to say something more but the glare from Sam told him this approach wasn't going to work. He needed something else and it looked like it would have to be drastic. "Ok, Sam. At the hotel." He walked off hoping that in the time he could set something up, the kid wouldn't be pulled down the rabbit hole much further.

Going to one of the side tables where the waiters were putting plates, glasses, and bottles as they were clearing the dining area he found an almost empty bottle of white wine. He took the bottle into the restroom and swished some of the liquid around in his mouth before spitting it out. Then he used a bit of the wine to splash on his face knowing the scent would give what he was going to do some credibility. He then emptied the bottle and refilled it with water. For a moment he considered what the consequences of his current plan would be before taking a deep breath. Sam had literally taken a bullet for him a few years before. He owed the man his life several times over. If he couldn't take a fall for him, he wasn't the man, or friend, Sam thought he was.

Squaring his shoulders, he marched back out into the room and began to play his self-imposed role. It wasn't as if he didn't have the acting experience having spent some time doing summer stock years before.

As he stumbled towards Sam's location he started to drink straight from the bottle, garnering looks of confusion sometimes mixed with disgust. It cut him deeply to know that those looks, which would have been justified a few years before prior to meeting Sam, had not been seen since Sam had dried him out and put him back on the right path. He also knew that this 'in for a pound' was the only choice he had at the moment. He made his way closer to where Sam was sitting to ensure his friend would see his performance.

Speaking loud enough so his voice would carry he cornered one of the board member's wives. "Hey, beautiful. Why don't you come dance with me? I'm sure I can give you a better time than your old geezer."

Fiona Nicholas immediately got up and moved to Al, grabbing him by his shoulder. "Admiral," she hissed under her voice, "You're making a scene. Please come with me."

Al took another swig from the bottle, continuing his loud speech. "You want me to come with you? I thought you had the hots for me earlier. Your place or mine, baby."

The loud, familiar voice caught Sam's attention and he looked over hoping his eyes were not going to confirm what his ears had already told him. When he saw Al, swigging from what looked like a bottle of wine and leering at Fiona Nicholas, he could only stare in opened-mouthed shock for a moment before jumping up and moving toward his friend.

He grabbed him by the arm, dragging him away from Fiona as he made apologies to the woman. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded after pulling the man to a slightly less crowded spot. He grabbed the bottle from Al and shook it front of his nose, again demanding, "What in all hell do you think you're doing?"

"Hi Sam," Al answered innocently. "I didn't mean to disturb you." He patted the other man on the shoulder and he allowed his body to be unsteady. "Did I disturb you?" he asked slurring his words slightly.

"Did you...did you..." Sam sputtered unable to complete the thought. "Did you disturb me?" he finally forced out then repeated it again, louder. "Did you disturb me?"

"I did," Al answered contritely. "I'm sorry. I should have waited like you said."

"Waited?" Sam asked. He was about to let his friend know exactly what he thought when his request earlier came back to him. Al had asked to speak to him about something personal. What if that personal was that he was afraid of giving into temptation - which it looked like he had. Guilt began to war with anger in Sam. "We've got to get out of here." He pushed Al up against a wall. "Don't move from here. Don't talk to anyone. Don't even look at anyone. I need to let Requin know we're leaving. I don't know how to make this better." He whirled around to head back to the CEO but stopped in his tracks when he saw the man so close behind him. "Oh boy."

Requin moved towards Sam, his face showing not unreasonable upset about this latest development. "I think it would be best to remove your partner from here. I'll have security sent up immediately," he said looking over Sam's shoulder at Al who was meekly leaning against the wall obviously plastered.

"No. No," Sam stammered equally angry and embarrassed. "That, um, that won't be necessary. We're leaving right now. You have my deepest apologies, Mr. Requin." He grabbed Al's arm and started tugging him. "C'mon. Let's go."

"Your partner's actions are certainly out of your control...and obviously out of his as well. I'll call you tomorrow morning, Dr. Beckett. We still have a great deal to discuss."

"Yes, sir," Sam agreed although he highly doubted a phone call would be coming the next morning. After Al's display tonight, he doubted it would ever come. He tugged his inebriated friend harder trying to make as quick an exit as possible. Unfortunately, that was hampered by his own less than perfect balance although considering Al's movements, his own were likely not noticed, something Sam was grateful for. They stopped briefly to get their coats from the coat check. By the time they made it to the front door of the hotel, Sam realized he was leaning almost as much on Al as Al was on him.

"Sam?" Al asked finally, knowing they were away from prying eyes and ears. The kid, still looked unfocused and based on his gait, was continuing to feel the effects of whatever combination of substances that he'd imbibed. "We need a cab."

"No kidding. I hadn't thought of that." Sam took a look at Al and was surprised by what he saw. Now that they were outside, every appearance of the drunkenness he'd seen inside seemed to have vanished and Al was no longer slurring his words. "What the hell's going on?"

"That's what I want to know," Al answered back, before letting the doorman know to call up a taxi. He returned to Sam. "I know you, Kid. There's something wrong. You're stumbling and I know you've been drinking...on top of your cold meds. You think that's wise?" He knew it wasn't but he was trying to get Sam's noggin to acknowledge the situation.

"You're not drunk," Sam stated needlessly. He pulled his coat tighter around his body and tried to hold back a cough while wishing his heart didn't feel like it was racing. He knew that was from drinking the alcohol on top of the pseudoephedrine in the medication he'd taken.

"No," Al agreed. "But you are...well maybe not drunk but not yourself. Do you have any idea of what you were doing in there?"

"Me? What I was doing?" Sam shook his head and looked around. "I can't deal with this right now. I need to sit down. Where the hell's a cab?"

Almost as if Sam's words alone had produced it, the yellow vehicle pulled up. The doorman opened the backdoor and Al helped his friend in before tipping the hotel staffer and pulling the door closed behind him. He gave the driver the name and location of their hotel and then glanced over to Sam again. "You don't look so good," he said with concern.

Sam turned a glare on his friend but didn't answer. To be honest, right now, he didn't feel so good either and he was hard-pressed to figure out who he was more angry with at the moment - Al for the stunt he just pulled or himself for drinking as much as he had. He pulled his coat close to him again unable to get warm.

Seeing the arrows that were aimed in his direction, Al knew the consequences for his performance were beginning. He wanted to explain but based on the set to Sam's jaw figured it would be better to do so when the man wasn't still under the influence. Instead of trying to talk to his friend, he gave him a weak smile and then turned his head to look straight ahead. The ambiance for the rest of the drive consisted of an unnatural tension between the men. It was as if a wall had risen, separating them emotionally if not physically.

Once at the hotel, Al took care of the taxi as Sam moved quickly into the hotel. By the time Al got to their room, he found that Sam's door was shut. Tapping lightly to assure the kid was actually there, he received a terse, "Not now, Al." Turning away, he went into his own room to get ready for bed. As he hung up the formal outfit he shook his head, questioning whether his actions were actually justified. Remembering that cat with the canary look on Requin's face, he decided that it was. It would have to wait until the next morning but he hoped he could convince his friend of that reality.

Once he'd taken care of his personal needs, he crawled into bed. It took a while to drop off and the sleep that came to him was restless and deeply unsatisfying.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Al walked out into the common area quietly. He could see Sam at the table, his back to him. A steaming cup was on the table in front of him. Based on the tension in his friend's shoulders, it was a cinch that the night before was praying on his mind and that wasn't a good sign. The older man wondered how long Sam had been up and sitting like this. Noting that the small trashcan beside the table had quite a few tissues in it, he figured it had been a good amount of time.

"It's about time you got up," Sam stated from his chair, not turning around. His voice was calm but it held an edge.

"Um...I didn't sleep very well last night." Al didn't bother to add that he'd actually been up for a while but had lain in bed instead of coming out, worried about the upcoming conversation.

"Really?" Sam asked as he turned to face the older man. "You didn't sleep well? And I suppose you think I slept like a baby? I might have lost my chance for the Millennium Group to fund the project and the man who's supposed to be my best friend manipulated me last night for reasons I can't even begin to imagine. Do you really think I feel the least bit bad that you didn't sleep last night?" He slammed his hand against the table. "Why did you do it?" he demanded. "You manipulated me and treated me like your puppet last night and I want to know why. Why you did something you said you'd never do to me? Why you treated me the same way that just about everyone else has?" The anger dropped from his voice replaced, instead, by sadness. "Why'd you do it, Al? Make me understand."

Al swallowed tightly. The thought 'in for a pound' ran through his mind once more. "I don't know if they are really planning on funding you, Sam, or if there's something else going on. Between the information you've provided them and the way they were pumping you for more last night..." He trailed off. "I did try to talk with you about it. You forced my hand."

Anger rushed in once more and Sam got up from the table. "I forced your hand? You're blaming me?" His voice rose in volume. "You do your manipulator bit and this is somehow my fault?"

"That's not what I said, Sam. Don't you understand? The financials you gave them went into way too much detail. Your proposal itself was fine...it covered what it needed to without going too deep. But I saw it even if you didn't. Requin was trying to get you to give him more than you intended. If they got enough information, with the right people, they could steal your ideas. Why take the cow when you can get the milk for free?"

"Oh, so now it's not just my fault but I'm naive, too. Tell the truth, Al. You didn't want me to seek private funding right from the get go. You'd prefer I go along with your little friends at the Pentagon. This was just you way of sabotaging it, wasn't it." He turned away walking to the window. "Damn it. How can I be so blind?"

"You really think I'd do that to you?" Al asked, stricken. You know me better than that. Sure, I felt that getting funded by the government would be better for you. I still do but what I did last night had nothing to do with that. There's something...sinister about them. I don't know what it is but I gotta tell you, there was something going on and it wasn't a desire to help you bring your project to fruition...at least not the way you want it."

"Sinister?" Sam asked with a half laugh. "Oh, so now it's all about good and evil? Why don't you just admit it? You're just mad that I went ahead and made a decision on my own. I contacted the Millennium Group without running it by you first. Well, I've got news for you, pal, I only had one father and it ain't you so you can just shove the 'best interest" shtick up your ass. I should have known every time you said you had my back it was to make sure you could put a knife in it good and de..." His words were cut off by a cough that nearly doubled him over.

Al was shocked by the words Sam was spewing at him. He knew that the fallout was going to be hard but he never had expected this. Still he'd decided before coming in to let his friend get his anger out and take whatever licks Sam thought were necessary. He'd manipulated his friend and he knew how much that would hurt him. When the man started coughing, however, he moved in to help him, reaching out a hand. "Maybe you'd better..." He didn't get any further as Sam's batted his hand away.

"Don't you dare touch me," the younger man said harshly, his voice raw from both emotion and the coughing. "You keep your damned hands to yourself."

Al blinked, absolutely stunned by the way Sam had responded. He knew he'd be angry but this was more than he expected. "Ok. I'll just back away, ok?" He was at a loss as to what to do next.

Sam glared at the other man unable to put his thoughts into words. Anger, betrayal, and hurt all vied for dominance in him. How could he have been so mistaken as to the kind of man Al was? How had he let himself be hoodwinked for six years?

"I'm...um...going to get ready, k...Sam." he said nodding towards his room. Not receiving an answer, he retreated quickly. Al quickly got out of his nightclothes and pulled on something acceptable for wearing outside. Sam needed time. That was all. He didn't mean all the things he said. At least that's what he was going to believe. Once dressed, he came back out into the common room. "I'm going to take a walk. I'll be back later."

"Whatever," Sam grumbled. He didn't wait to see the other man leave before going into his bedroom and slamming the door shut as hard as he could. He threw himself on the bed, pulling into himself. How could he have let himself be duped? After the events that precipitated his leaving MIT, Al was the only person he'd really allowed himself to get close to besides his family. He knew, or at least thought he knew, that he was a man who could be trusted. In the end, it turned out that he was no different from every other person who'd come into Sam's life in the hope of using him to their advantage. Al had just played that game better and longer.

Sam couldn't deny how much that hurt. The one person who'd come close to filling the voids in his life that had been left by his brother's and father's deaths had just ripped open another one.

As he was thinking through the situation, the phone rang. At first, he was going to let it keep ringing but then remembered that Requin had said he be calling this morning. Taking a deep breath, knowing that if it was Requin, it was most likely to tell him his proposal had been put through a shredder, he answered the phone before it rang again. Hello?"

"Dr. Beckett. I hope I didn't call too early," Requin started.

Sam immediately recognized the voice. "Mr. Requin. No, it's not early."

"Good." There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. "This is a difficult call to make. You know that the events of last night have to be taken into consideration."

"Yes, sir," Sam replied steeling himself for what he knew was to come. "I'd like to extend my sincere apologies."

"The board all agrees that this unfortunate situation was not your fault. The Admiral's reputation preceded him. It was considered a matter of time until the man returned to his old ways. I'm just sorry that the inevitable meltdown occurred when you had so much to deal with. It must have been difficult for you to see your partner for the man he truly is."

"Um...yeah," Sam agreed although Requin didn't know the half of what had happened.

There was a slight pause on the other end of the phone. "Well, then I'm sure you'll understand what I'm about to say. The board is unanimous that your project should be funded. We've decided, after reading through the financial information you provided, that we don't need to wait until next year to agree preliminarily to take your project on. There will need to be further discussions, of course, before funding is finalized." A slight pause preceded his final statement. "There is one non-negotiable condition."

Sam couldn't believe what he'd just heard. After a night of believing that there was no way the Millennium Group would do more than ask him not to let the door hit him in the ass when he left, he was dumfounded which started his coughing again. He tried to hold the cough back as he managed to croak out. "One condition?"

"Yes. Admiral Calavicci will have to go. We can't have such a loose cannon involved."

Sam didn't say anything, as he picked up the glass of water on the nightstand to get rid of the frog in his throat. Requin must have taken the pause for indecision.

"You don't have to let me know this minute, Dr. Beckett. Monday is fine. It's always hard to terminate a colleague and a friend but that's the way of business. The Millennium Group's position, however, is firm. I hope that Monday you will provide us with the answer we'd like to hear."

Finally able to speak, Sam said, somewhat numbly. "Thank you. I'll let you know Monday then."

"Then I won't keep you, Dr. Beckett. I wish you the best for your holiday season and I hope to be seeing more of you next year."

"Happy holidays to you as well, sir," Sam responded by rote. The receiver on the other end clicked indicating the connection was broken. Slowly, he hung up the phone and just sat looking into the middle distance. He felt as if his life had started to unravel quickly before his eyes.

In order to keep his dream alive, he'd have to give up his friend and he wasn't sure that was something he could ever do. As much as Al's betrayal hurt and despite the words he'd hurled at his friend, he had to keep believing that they could work things out.

Of course, none of this would even be an issue if Al hadn't pulled the stunt that he had. He had to know that it would not only get them kicked out yesterday but put everything in jeopardy. Sam's anger was renewed as he thought about that. Al had wanted to make sure he didn't get the Millennium Group funding. Well, it looked like his plan had backfired. As much as he wanted to believe that he and Al could be friends, there was only one choice he could make.

When Al came back to the room an hour later, Sam was sitting waiting for him. "Requin called," he stated before the other man had a chance to say anything. "I bet you thought that call wouldn't come."

Al pulled his coat off and held up a bag. "I picked up some cinnamon rolls." He was concerned when Sam kept the same stone face but didn't respond to the latter statement. "What did he say?"

"He said they want to give me the funding...me...not you. The only way I get the funding is if you're not involved in any way, shape or form. I have to call him Monday with my decision."

Al was quiet and his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to figure something out. "This has always been your dream, Sam. Whether I'm a part of it or not. I'm just not sure you're not going to get burned if you take them up on this."

"Oh, give it a rest," Sam snarled as he got up. "I'm sick and tired of you constantly treating me like I'm mentally incompetent or something. I guess you forgot...I'm a genius. My IQ's probably ten times higher than yours is if not more. If someone in this room is mentally incompetent, it's not me."

"I've never treated you as a mentally incompetent person. Mentally incompetent...what does that even mean? I know what it means to most people...that's for sure...but you? Never."

"Stop talking in circles. You know damned well what I mean. Well, I bet you didn't expect this, did you? I guess your little plan to cost me the funding just blew up in your face."

"You think that's what last night was all about? I'm still worried about how this whole thing came about and what it means for you. How'd you even know to submit a proposal to this outfit? What do you really know about them other than they have deep pockets? What part of you are they going to expect as their pound of flesh when they do fund you?"

"You can cut out all the 'so concerned' questions. I'm not going to answer them and I don't have to. I was on the right track six years ago. Why I let you talk me out of that, I'll never know. I probably could have had funding long before this instead of being held back and exiled to middle of nowhere." A thought came to Sam. "That's it. That's why you were so happy to go along with the move to New Mexico. Did you plan that with Steve Matthews? Make sure you got me far away from where anyone with any influence was. I guess you didn't count on me looking for the help I needed."

Al's face mirrored pain. "Six years ago you came to Virginia for a new start by deciding that everything you ever held dear wasn't important anymore. You tried to make yourself something that eroded you from the inside out. You even stopped talking to you family. But if you think that's the way to go now...I guess, considering the role you've cast me in, nothing I say is going to make a hill of beans." He picked up his coat again. "I'm going down to the concierge and see about what my options are. I don't think it would be a good idea to go back home with you under these circumstances."

"Why don't you just do that? And while you're at it, you might want to see about a hotel reservation when you get back to New Mexico."

"I was planning on it," Al said as he walked out the door, closing it behind him.

Sam ran to the door and opened it, yelling at Al as he walked to the elevators. "And I want you out of my house by the first, you got that," he called out to him. When Al turned to him in surprise, he said tauntingly, "You forgot. The only name on that deed is mine. You wanted to make sure none of you ex-wives could get their hands on it."

"Yeah...good start on becoming Scrooge. Just remember the chain he forged when money became the only thing that mattered to him." Before Sam could respond, Al finished. "The house is yours. I'll be out by the first if not before." He then moved to the stairwell and started down, not even waiting for the elevator.

As soon as Al was out of sight, Sam backed into the room, closing the door softly behind him. "Oh God," he said softly. "What happened? What did I do?" As angry as he was with Al, he hadn't envisioned that their friendship would come crashing down like this. The phone rang and he numbly moved to answer it. "Hello," he forced out after a few seconds of silence.

"Dr. Beckett? This is Shlomo Gooshman...you know...Gooshie...um, Dr. Gooshman? We had lunch the other day?"

"Um...yeah...Dr. Gooshman," Sam responded in a distracted fashion. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Well...not really. I mean I'm still interested in the project you spoke about but that's not the reason for my call. It's...um...well...I don't like to speak ill of people but I've been thinking about it and I felt you should know."

"Know? Know what? I don't mean to be rude, Dr. Gooshman but I was in the middle of something and I don't understand what you want."

"It happened yesterday. Dr. LoNigro and I both had a flight time close together and decided that we would have breakfast and stay together until we left. I don't like spending so much on those cab rides when you go by yourself. Anyways, I wanted to get something for my sister. She's such a help to me and since we had the morning free..."

"You still have me confused, why are you calling?" Sam interrupted

"I was getting to that. I wanted to go someplace to get something for my sister but Dr. LoNigro said he had a stop he needed to make. He told me that Tiffany's was right next door to the building where his short meeting was at and I could get something for her there.. When we walked in, the person that Dr. LoNigro was supposed to meet had to cancel suddenly. Met him in the lobby as he was running out." Gooshie sounded embarrassed. "People often don't think about saying things around me because they don't believe I pay much attention to anything other than computers. And, to be fair, that's probably true much of the time. But I digress. This time, I did listen...even though it's rude to eavesdrop. Although, they knew I was right there so it wasn't really eavesdropping, was it? In any case, what I heard has disturbed me since and I felt you should know."

Sam was becoming exasperated. "What did you hear, Gooshie?"

"Part of what I heard was about Admiral Calavicci. I know I only met him the one time, but it's just not right. It's just not right at all."

"Al? What's he done this time?"

"Done?" Gooshie questioned in obvious confusion. "He hasn't done anything...at least I don't think he has. Well, I'm sure he's done lots of somethings...we all do, after all."

"Gooshie!" Sam interrupted sharply. He modulated his voice then continued. "What's this all about?"

"Well...like I said, there was this gentleman that Dr. LoNigro was to meet with. His last name was Retwin or something like that, I believe. Tall fellow, well-dressed, slight French accent. He seemed a bit arrogant to me."

"Requin?" Sam asked, feeling the hair on his neck lifting.

"Yeah. That sounds right. I think that was the name. In any case he asked if Dr. LoNigro had changed his mind about attending something last night but the answer was no. He, Dr. LoNigro, I mean, said something about it would be better if you didn't know they knew each other yet. He also said it would be easier for him to get you alone. That's when the other man pulled out a folded letter from his pocket. I think it was a letter anyways. It was folded like one. He said there was a lot of good information in it and that he'd try to get more that night."

Sam was beginning to feel sick and not from his cold. "How does this have anything to do with Al?"

"That's the part that really upset me. Dr. LoNigro said the Admiral had a reputation as an alcoholic. That they could possibly use that against him. That didn't seem right though. The Admiral didn't drink anything the other day at lunch. He had iced tea. That's not how an alcoholic acts."

Sam nodded unconsciously. "No, he doesn't drink anymore."

"I'm glad. I had a brother that was an alcoholic. He was a leading researcher in the biochemistry field. Alcohol destroyed that. He beat the bottle...got sober I mean...but, it didn't seem to matter. Everyone still judged him for what he did in the past. He became depressed and we lost him to suicide four years ago. Ever since then, it just makes me angry to hear when someone's past is used to hurt them like that."

"I'm sorry. It's terrible to lose someone you care about," Sam said almost by rote. The implications of what he'd been told numbed him. "I can't imagine how painful it would be if it was by their own hand."

"Thank you, Dr. Beckett. We've come to terms with it. Joseph was a good man...but he wasn't strong enough to take what happened."

"Was there anything else said?" Sam asked almost afraid of what the answer would be. "I mean, did they say anything else about Al or me?"

"Dr. LoNigro told Mr. Requin...like I say, I think that was his name...that once he was onboard it wouldn't take long to make sure that the Millennium Group's goals were primary. He said that he'd controlled you in the past and he'd be able to do it again - that you were too naive to know when you were being led." There was noticeable embarrassment in Gooshie's voice as he relayed that part of the discussion he'd over heard. "Anyways that's what I heard. I thought you should know. I thought the Admiral was a fine man and it was touching to see how much he cared about your well-being. And I thought you should know what Dr. LoNigro and this Requin fellow had in mind. It didn't seem right to me, not at all."

"Yeah. Um...thanks for telling me Dr. Gooshman. I...uh...I really appreciate it." Sam slowly put down the phone not saying goodbye nor waiting for Gooshie to either. As everything Gooshie had told him sank in, he realized that Al's instincts had been right on the money in regards to both the Millennium Group and LoNigro. And what had he done? He'd thrown Al's concerns back in his face and flushed the best friendship he'd ever have down the toilet, that's what he'd done.

For a moment his rebelliousness came to the fore as he reminded himself that has anger toward Al had been justified based on what had happened the previous night. Al had manipulated him and that hurt. Still, knowing why Al had done what he did last night he couldn't deny that the man had had his best interests at heart. "I've got to make this right," he said to himself as he quickly got up from the bed.

Once Al reached the lobby, he went over to the front desk and waited somewhat impatiently to reach the front of the small line of people that were checking out. He and Sam had a later checkout set up themselves based on their late afternoon flight. The original plans, for him anyway, had gone up in smoke. _"Inferno would be a better term_," he thought wryly.

Once he reached the clerk, he asked where he could find the concierge. Pointed to a large mahogany desk just off the lobby, Al walked over and noticed the sign that had been placed there indicating the woman, Marjorie Hanford based on the nameplate on the desk, would be back in fifteen minutes. "Figures," Al said under his breath before going to the lobby coffee bar to grab a cup while he waited.

Cup in hand he went back to the desk to wait. The events of the night before and the morning replayed in his mind as he tried to figure out just what went so caca. He knew that he had manipulated Sam at the party but only after he'd tried to get Sam away from Requin in a reasonable way that hadn't worked. On any other night it probably would have but, of course, not last night. No, the damned cold that had assailed Sam causing him to require the OTC meds, the fact that Sam was so bound and determined to make a good impression that he'd again acted foolish with alcohol, and then the sheer sliminess of their host had conspired to require Al to come up with a plan on the fly. He had to admit, in hindsight, it was probably not the best plan but he was at a loss as to what else he could have done. If he'd tried to fake a medical emergency, Sam would have seen right through it despite his impairment. "Yeah. You're a genius, Kid," he whispered to himself, realizing that if he wasn't he probably wouldn't have had to go to such lengths to dislodge his friend from the grasp of people who had smoothly convinced him they were ready to make his dream come true.

Al scoffed at that. In a few short days, the kid had reverted to the man he'd met six years before. The one that had decided that getting Al and anyone else he could under his thumb was the ticket to that dream. This morning Sam had taken on the role of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde or even better, Sméagol and Gollum, Sam's 'precious' being his project. His desire for building it had blinded him to everything else. Well, if getting the funding from the Millennium Group was so damned important that Sam would let himself be compromised, let himself become one of those money hungry morality devoid bastards, then maybe it was a good thing that he was being kicked to the curb. He certainly didn't want to bear witness to the degeneration of one of the finest men he'd ever known.

He was about to get up for another cup of coffee when Ms. Hanford returned. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, sir. I had to help another of our guests. What can I do for you?"

Al coughed slightly. "I'd like to look into when I can book a flight to New Mexico, tomorrow or the next day will be fine."

She nodded. "What city do you need to fly into?"

Al thought about that. Because of Comet, they'd flown out of Albuquerque but El Paso would be closer. Sam could take care of the cat now. All he wanted to do was get back, find a storage unit to stow his stuff, and get the hell away from the home he'd thought he'd found.. "El Paso," he responded aloud as he amended his thoughts. No, what he really wanted was a way to fix everything and go back to having his best friend the way he'd been. Fat chance of that under the circumstances.

The woman continued to check for potential flights when Al noticed Sam at the front desk and the clerk pointing in his directions. _ "Great, now he wants to air this in public,_" he thought with a sinking feeling. If he'd been able to, he would have gotten up and come back later but the kid had him in his sights. He was surprised, though, that the look on the kid's face was closer to deep concern than anger or animosity. Maybe something was wrong. Al closed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief at his own thoughts. Of course there was something wrong. Everything at the moment.

After leaving the room, Sam had gone to the elevator but hadn't had the patience to wait until it came. Instead, he turned toward the stairs, nearly running down the five flights until he reached the lobby level. He had to get to Al before he did anything and explain to him what had happened. More than that, he owed a very large apology for the things he'd said and the accusations he'd made.

When he got to front desk, he was winded from his run down the stairs. He asked where he could find the concierge and was pointed in the right direction. He saw Al sitting at the desk and hurried his steps. "Al, we need to talk," he called out as he got closer.

"I think we've said enough," Al responded without looking away from the concierge.

"I need to explain," Sam said as he approached where his friend was sitting. "You don't understand."

"I understand plenty. Let's not get into this in public."

"No," Sam said but before he could say anything else, his headlong dash down the stairs caught up with him. He started coughing, doubling over and, eventually, dropping to his knees.

When Al saw the other man collapse to the floor, he forgot about their argument and was out the chair and by his side in a flash. "Sam?" he asked in concern. "Take it easy." He started to put a hand out to rub the bowed back but hesitated, remembering how Sam had rebuffed his touch in the room. He shrugged that off and went with his instinct. "C'mon, take it easy."

The concierge was also out of her seat and over by the two men. "Should I get some help," she asked in concern.

Hearing the question, Sam shook his head vigorously. "No," he forced out between coughs.

"Can we get some water?" Al asked. He helped Sam up from the floor and guided him over to one of the chairs at the desk as the coughing finally started to abate. Sam nodded and the concierge went to get a glass. "What's going on, Sam? What's gotten into you?"

"We need to talk." Sam was breathing hard from the coughing. "Don't do anything 'til we do."

Al didn't expect anything more than the verbal abuse he'd received earlier figuring that the kid may have thought up a few zingers to throw at him after he left but another part of him hoped that Sméagol had won out in the battle for his friend's soul. "Sure. We can talk." Ms. Hanford had returned with the water handing it to Sam.

"Thank you," Sam said as he took the water and sipped from it. "Not here, like you said. Upstairs. Please."

Al blinked and then shrugged. "Ok. Upstairs." He turned to Ms. Hanford. "Thank you for your assistance. There's something I need to do before I can finalize my plans. I'll let you know."

"Just remember there's only one seat open on that alternative flight. If you don't book that one, the next will be in three days."

"I'll keep that in mind," Al said. "Ok, Sam. Let's go back up."

Sam nodded and slowly got up from the chair feeling a little lightheaded. It occurred to him that running down the stairs probably hadn't been the smartest thing he could have done. Then again, despite his statements to the contrary, he hadn't done very much that was smart the last couple of days. "Don't think I can do the stairs."

Raising his eyebrows at that statement, the older man smiled lightly. "I wouldn't expect you could with that congestion. The elevator would be a better choice."

"Yeah." Sam walked side by side with Al to the elevator. As they waited for it to come, he wrapped his arms around himself trying to hold his body heat in. He hadn't bothered to change his clothes when he'd come down and had on only the t-shirt and sweatpants he'd been sleeping in. He let out a little groan remembering that the sweatpants had a tear in them and he'd just given everyone in the lobby a look at his boxers.

Hearing the groan, Al gave Sam a critical look. "Maybe you do need a doctor. Where do you hurt?"

"I don't need a doctor. I am a doctor." Turning, Sam looked back over his shoulder at Al, chagrined. "I could use a good tailor. I forgot I wasn't really dressed for the public."

Giving the other man a critical look and realizing what he meant, Al laughed lightly. "Ok...no doctor. Couldn't do much for bruised pride anyways."

The elevator door opened and the two men got on. As the doors closed, Sam turned to Al. "I'm sorry, Al. You don't know how sorry I am."

The older man gave Sam a look like he'd grown two heads. This was what he'd hoped for but the way and speed it happened had confused him. "I don't understand. Fifteen minutes ago you were ready to throw me out with yesterday's news. What kind of game are you playing now?"

Sam winced at the accusation, not that it wasn't justified. Were he in Al's shoes, he wasn't sure he'd even be giving himself the time of day. "No games. I don't expect you to believe me...I don't blame you if you don't and if you never forgive me, I understand."

The elevator reached its destination, no one else attempting to board during its ascent. As they got off Al queried, "You bring your keycard with you this time?"

"I wasn't exactly thinking about that." Sam gestured to himself. "Where was I going to put it?"

"Figures." The other man pulled his card out of his pocket and opened the door, gesturing for Sam to go inside and then followed him in. "Ok. Mr Hyde, I'm listening."

Wincing at the accusation, Sam licked his lips nervously. He knew the chances were very good that after he finished explaining, Al still might walk out the door. "Dr. Gooshman called after you left," he started. "He was out with LoNigro yesterday morning...the professor had some meeting." He made his way over to the couch and sat down, looking up at Al. "LoNigro and Requin know each other...that's who he went to see. Dr. Gooshman said they talked about me...us." He was up off the couch again, pacing in front of it. "You were right. You were right about everything and everyone...LoNigro, Requin...all of them. They didn't want to fund my project. They only wanted to get their hands on it, that's all. I was just so blinded by what I thought I was going to get I didn't listen to you and I didn't see it myself." He slumped on the couch again. "I'm no genius."

Al, who had continued standing by the door now moved into the sitting area and took the wing chair. "Oh, Sam, I know this had to be hard to face. I'm glad you told me." He paused. "I've got to be honest with you, though; I'm still worried about how fast you turned back the clock. If you didn't learn the first time about embracing the dark side, why should I believe you won't do it again?"

"I don't know how to make you believe, Al. I'm not even sure if I have a right to. What I said to you was unforgiveable. I just...It's like my dream was right there at my fingertips. I could practically touch it and it appeared like you were doing everything you could to snatch it away from me. And then when I realized what you did last night...I was just so angry. Angry and stupid."

"I can't argue with you about that," Al stated. "Still, thinking back that probably wasn't the best way for me to handle things. I just didn't know what else would get through to you considering your state of mind when I formulated my strategy. I'm sorry I tricked you like that...but I was afraid that if I didn't your dream would become someone else's Nobel."

"That wasn't strategy, Al," Sam said with a small smile. "I'm not sure what it was but it wasn't strategy. Why would you put our friendship on the line like that? Do you think my dream is more important than that? I might not have been thinking straight last night but you should have been."

"I think the events of the last few days answer that question. What if Dr. Gooshman hadn't called? You'd be on a plane back to New Mexico and I'd be planning where to go next. And you've got to understand, what I did I did _because_ of our friendship. Like I said, probably not the best way to handle things but can you tell me what I _could_ have done differently and gotten through to you?"

Sam shook his head slightly. He had no answers for any of Al's questions. He wanted to believe that even if Gooshman hadn't called, they'd have somehow worked it all out...but what was the likelihood of that happening? He had put his project above their friendship but understood now what a mistake that was. Not that he didn't want to see it to fruition but...if getting it meant he had to forge a chain like Scrooge's, to use Al's analogy, then it wasn't worth it. "I don't know what to say, Al, other than to say that only the biggest idiot would be willing to sacrifice a friendship like I was. I know you probably don't believe me and you'll probably never trust me again." The parting shot he'd thrown when Al had left the room came back to him. "When we get back to New Mexico, I want you to put your name on the deed. No matter what, I don't want you to ever be homeless." He leaned over, burying his face in his hands. "Oh God, Al. I'm so sorry."

"You were misled by people you thought you could trust." Al didn't say anything more and just sat for a moment before getting up and walking into his room.

When Sam heard Al get up and leave the room, he picked his face up. "I'm sorry," he whispered one more time then slowly walked into his room and swung the door softly closed. He lay down on the bed and the weight of what happened hit him. He'd just lost the best friend he'd ever had and no amount of 'I'm sorries' could change what had happened. The knock on the door was the last thing he expected. "Yeah?"

Al opened the door to Sam's room. He had something in his hand. "Why'd you come in here, Kid?"

"Didn't think you wanted to be around me anymore." A small, sad smile came to Sam's face. "Didn't think I'd ever hear you call me that again."

"I just wanted to get this." Al handed the object in his hand to the younger man. It was the hospital band that Sam had been tagged with after the accident in Norfolk. After Sam had thrown it in the trash, Al had dug it out to keep. "I carry that with me."

Sam turned the band over in his hand. The writing on it was mostly faded after six years. He looked up at Al, a question in his eyes. "Why?"

"Because of what you did. You were angry at me then. You told me if I went to AJ's going away party, our friendship was over. I went anyways. That," he said pointing to the band, "Told me that what I believe sometimes isn't always the ultimate truth. You came after me because you felt our friendship was more important than getting your way."

"So, I need to get into a car accident to make everything right?" Sam asked not completely understanding what Al was getting at. Strangely, he had a feeling that if that's what his friend told him to do; he'd do it if it meant salvaging the relationship. At this point, he'd do just about anything.

"Huh?" Al asked truly confused but then realized what Sam was asking. "No. That's not it." He sat on the bed. "The thing is, back then I thought when I chose to go to AJ's party, the friendship we'd been building was toast. I still feel it was the right thing to do. AJ and I went back a long way and you and I had just met." He looked down. "When the accident happened, I didn't know what to think especially after you told me what you'd been up to. That's when AJ gave me some pretty sound advice. He told me that I could either believe everything you told me and throw away a friendship or I could wait until you explained what you meant." He paused. "What he was really saying is sometimes people do or say things that hurt...but if there's a bond of friendship, you need to give it time to understand before you throw it away. That's what this..." he said touching the bracelet, "...reminds me of. No matter what happens, give it time." He blinked. "I thought this time...the way things came down that maybe there wasn't any reason to wait. I'm glad I was wrong."

Sam pushed up to sit against the pillows. "You almost were right," he said glancing down. "I lost sight of what's important."

"Yeah, for a while there, you did," Al agreed. "I didn't exactly make it easier for you, though." He reached out and lifted Sam's face so he could see his eyes. "Neither one of us were at our best, Sam. You don't hold all the blame for what happened. As much as I wanted to protect you from that slime ball, I should have known that what I did last night would put it on the line. I should have realized that as many times as you've been manipulated in the past for someone else's gain, something like that would really hurt you. I didn't really give that aspect a lot of thought at the time, though. For that, I'm truly sorry."

Sam took in a breath. "You know, your friend AJ was right. I don't know why we do it but it's often the people we care most about that we hurt or we're hurt by. He's a wise man."

"That's what I told him. He agreed."

"Modest, too," Sam said with a slight grin that was returned in kind. "So...how do we go on?"

"I guess we just try to understand what happened and put it behind us." Al paused, "But if you ever start going down that road again, please give me the permission now, while you're in sound mind, to kick your ass."

"I'm not so sure I'm really in sound mind right now but...ok. Do your worst. I want the same permission too, though."

"Oh, like you think I'll ever try that one again? I may not have thought through how manipulated you would feel but I did think about being recast as a lush. I'm sure there were enough high-powered people at that little soirée last night that may put the wrong idea into the minds of quite a few people. You, on the other hand, have tried out this plan of yours at least twice. I hope it's not like a six year cycle."

"Oh no. When I call Requin Monday, I'm going to make sure he knows..." Sam's voice trailed off. "That probably wouldn't help either, would it?" He sighed. "I'm sorry, Al. I know I keep saying it and it must sound hollow but I really am."

"I know you are, Kid." Al quieted for a moment. "How much does LoNigro know about your project?"

"I don't know. He helped lay down the groundwork for it but that was a long time ago. I've changed a lot of stuff since then. Why?"

Al sighed. "Well, one of the things that bothered me so much was the information you provided in the financials. The project proposal itself was vague enough but I just don't trust that guy not to try to build on any knowledge that he has."

"I wouldn't worry too much. At the risk of sounding vain, I don't think LoNigro's got what it takes to go from the work I did with him back in '72 and get it to where I've got it today...even with the information I put in the financials."

"Ok. That's good. It was just one of those loose ends that I hate hanging out."

Sam still wasn't sure where he stood with Al. Tentatively, he asked, "Um, are you still going to change your flight plans so you don't have to get on the same plane as me?"

"No. I was just going to say we'd better pack though. We need to leave in about three hours and we still need to shower, pack, dress, and maybe even catch lunch before we leave for the airport."

Sam pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. "I wish we didn't have to go back today. I feel horrible and I'm so darned tired."

"Based on my conversation with the concierge if we don't get out today, we'll be here three more. You really want to do that?"

"No. That's Christmas Eve. I don't want to wait 'til then. You think there's time for me to lie down for just a little while...a half hour maybe?"

"I'll get my shower first. That work?"

"Yeah. Just get me up when you get out."

"Works for me." Al started to go out but turned slightly before going out the door. "I'm glad Dr. Gooshman called. I wasn't looking forward to the alternative. I think we both owe him a debt of gratitude."

"Definitely," Sam agreed. He lay down again and pulled the blanket over him. "I'll just rest while you shower."

"Ok." Al went out and got himself ready. It was a good thirty-five minutes before he went back into Sam's room. His friend was sprawled out again as was his wont. He felt bad having to wake him up but they did need to get going. He reached out his hand and slightly shook him. "Sam?"

Sam blinked his eyes open and looked up at his friend. "Done?" he asked.

"Done. The bath is awaiting Hurricane Sam. I've got the stuff to wrap your arm."

"I'm not that bad," Sam grumped. He took off his t-shirt and tossed it on the bed so Al could wrap his arm so the wound wouldn't get wet.

Not wanting to get into another argument, no matter how petty, Al simply gave a neutral grunt before taking care of Sam's arm. "While you're in the shower, I'll pack and then come in and help you. Sal said he'd pick up the tuxes on his way home. We'll need to let the front desk know." He noted Sam's nod and went back out, taking Sam's tux off the chair in the corner of the room and picking up his shoes.

In the bathroom, Sam let the water run as hot as he could so that it steamed up the room. With any luck, it would help clear up some of the congestion he was feeling. He made quick work of his shower then went back to the bedroom dressed only in his jeans.

Hearing the bathroom door opening, Al called out of his room. "I'm almost finished. I'll be over in a few minutes."

"Ok," Sam called out in response. While he waited for Al to come in, he put on his socks and sneakers then started to gather his stuff to pack. "Got the stuff?" he asked when Al came in the room.

"For bandaging your arm? Yeah. Right here." Al sat by Sam on the bed and unwound the plastic wrap from around his arm then took off the old bandage. "It's looking a lot better but it's still pretty ugly."

Sam looked down at his arm. "It's still sore but not as bad as it was."

"It's probably going to be sore for a while." Al paused. "I just wish you didn't keep having these things happen to you."

"I couldn't let him just take that ladies purse and it's not like I knew he had a knife on him."

"I know. It's just...well...what if it hadn't been a knife? What if he'd had a gun? Would that lady's purse have been worth your life?"

Sam shook his head. "That's a moot point, Al. Even if he did have a gun, I wouldn't have known about it anymore than I did the knife so I wouldn't have changed my actions. That's like...like if I put my chips down on red and black came out would it make a difference what color I played? It wouldn't because the future event can't change the past action."

"True. I guess I'm just concerned about your impulsiveness sometimes. Usually you give things thought but sometimes..." Thelma's words replayed in his mind. "I guess I just don't want you paying a price you didn't expect to pay before you put the chips on the table and I'm afraid that one of this days, you're gonna do something that puts you in a real pickle."

"But that's what you have to do sometimes...like when we walked into that bank. Getting shot wasn't something I ever wanted to experience but if I'd taken time to think before acting, it might have been too late and you wouldn't be here." Sam glanced down then back up at his friend. "That makes the price bearable."

Al let out a breath of reluctant acceptance at Sam's statement. He may not like how his friend saw things sometimes but that was Sam. "Ok, all finished," he told him putting the final tape over the dressing. "Let's get you packed."

Sam picked up the long-sleeved t-shirt he'd put on the bed and pulled it on and then a flannel shirt over it. He looked around the room and realized that he hadn't been the tidiest the last few days. "I hope we have enough time." He got up from the bed and started to gather the clothes that were in the room, putting them on the bed. He had to stop a few times when the cough snuck up on him again. "I'm really not looking forward to getting on that plane," he stated as he started to fold what he'd put on the bed.

Al handed him a plastic laundry bag from the closet. "It'll go faster if you just put most of your stuff in the bag...only fold what you can still wear without washing. You want me to put your things in your dopp kit in the bathroom while you're doing this?

"Yeah. Just leave out the box of Benadryl and the Tylenol."

"Got it. I just hope the Benadryl helps you sleep on the plane. At least you'd be unconscious."

"If that's the way you want me, I could always take a couple of the pain pills I got for my arm."

It's not the way I want you, per se. It's just you'd probably be more comfortable. Flying with a cold is the pits. Even worse if you're the pilot."

"Well, let's all be glad I'm not the pilot." Sam started stuffing his laundry in the plastic bag. "You mind grabbing my suitcase out of the closet"

"Amen to that," Al responded knowing that Sam's fear of flying would make piloting difficult at best, disastrous at worst. He retrieved the suitcase in question frowning at the broken handle. "Here you go. Looks like you'll need a new one."

"Thanks." Sam started stuffing his clothes into the suitcase. He frowned at the broken handle but he just had to get the thing home and then he'd toss it. It was a tight fit and didn't come close to how neatly Al had originally packed it but when the older man came back in the room with the stuff from the bathroom, Sam had gotten everything in except the leather jacket. "Yeah, a new one for sure. Think you can put this in your uniform?" Al had also taken the Zegna earlier.

"Yeah, sure," Al answered. He put the new jacket in the garment bag. "Ok. I think we have everything but I don't think we'll have time for lunch. If you're hungry, we can grab a sandwich at that place across the street. You liked their soup yesterday."

"I don't really have much appetite but I guess I should eat something since I haven't had anything since last night."

"Yeah. I think the 'feed a cold' concept's a good one most of the time."

"Usually." Sam followed Al out to the common room, putting his suitcase with the other one that was already by the door. "I'm not so sure it's just a cold anymore, though."

"Why am I not surprised?" Al responded. "I swear, you should develop some kind of field that keeps any microbe from getting close to you. I don't know anyone that they like to settle in more."

"I guess I'm just an obliging host," Sam joked then turned serious. "I really thought it would just stay a cold this time."

"I suggest you close down the hotel and stop inviting them to your doorstep. You get one of these almost every year."

"It's not like I'm hanging out a 'no vacancy' sign and inviting them. Geesh, you make it sound like I enjoy this." Realizing what he'd just said sounded whiny and unfriendly, Sam hung his head and blew out a long breath. "I didn't mean it to come out that way. I'm just tired, don't feel well, and..."

"And that's ok. I've been through enough of these, I sort of expect it." Al walked through the rooms one last time, looking under furniture and checking drawers. Satisfied that nothing had been left he looked at Sam's suitcase and the rest of the items. "Give me a minute." Going out, he found one of the luggage carts and brought it back in. After putting everything on, he grabbed the cinnamon rolls he'd bought earlier. Getting a look of confusion from Sam, he shrugged. "We might want them on the plane later." "Come on, let's get back home."

Sam followed Al and the cart out of the room. Just before closing the door behind him, he paused to look back into the room. The best friendship he'd ever had had almost died here. They'd managed to pull it back from the brink and he hoped it would never be tested that way again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The traffic to the airport was heavy with holiday travelers and it took a bit longer than expected to get there. After checking in, they almost immediately boarded. This time, their seats were further back in coach meaning that instead of the comfortable seats they'd had on the flight out, they were now packed like sardines on the flight that was mostly full.

Sam had taken his cold meds before getting on the plane but his sniffles and coughs, though muted, still garnered some annoyed looks from the people around him, especially from the woman across the aisle.

When Al glared back at her, she turned her head forward. "You want to take your pain meds now or wait until after we take off?" he asked, not wanting the kid to have to deal with the issues his congestion would cause him.

"Neither," Sam responded then added, "I'm not in pain so I'm not going to take it just for the sake of taking it."

"You know it's not going to be very comfortable once we take off, right?" Al clarified. He was sure Sam knew that, with the congestion from the cold, there would be some discomfort and didn't understand why he wouldn't take something that might, at least, mask some of it.

"I know but I also don't want to be drugged all the way to New Mexico. I took the Benadryl and the decongestant. That should help some."

"Some," Al agreed. "Ok, you're the doc. I just hope you're not soldiering through this for no good reason."

"I'm not 'soldiering through'. I would, however, like to still be breathing when we land in New Mexico and not having some kind of drug interaction."

"You really think that could happen? It couldn't be that bad, could it? I mean, people take those things together a lot."

"Well, maybe not that bad," Sam conceded. "Still drug interactions aren't unheard of and I don't want to tempt fate. Do you?"

Al was thoughtful for a moment but then responded, "With your track record, no."

"I didn't think so," Sam responded as the plane started to taxi down the runway. He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly knowing that the 'fun' was going to begin.

They were about half way through the flight when Sam couldn't take it anymore. Unconsciously, he reached over and grabbed Al's wrist squeezing hard and let out a small groan.

"What's wrong, Kid?" Al asked apprehensively. He'd spent the mostly quiet flight reading some of the magazines he'd bought earlier while Sam had busied himself with the word games. He hadn't expected the sudden squeeze on his wrist and looked at his friend in concern. "Arm, head, or something else?" He wasn't about to discount any possibility.

"I just want to land," Sam responded softly so only his friend would hear him. "I feel horrible, Al. My ears are so plugged up they hurt and my head feels like it's going to explode...and I'm cold." As he finished speaking, he coughed. "I should have waited," he said when the cough ended.

"Waited?" Al asked, not sure what Sam was commenting on. After the query, he pushed the steward call button.

"Waited a couple of days to fly," Sam clarified.

"It would have meant spending more money on the hotel not to mention the cost of changing the flights. You sure you don't want to take a pain med?"

"I'll take it," Sam quickly agreed. "Where are they?" Most likely, it wouldn't help with discomfort from the pressure but with any luck; it would make him drowsy enough that he'd just sleep the rest of the flight.

Al reached down to the carry-on he'd stowed under the seat and retrieved the amber colored medicine bottle. As he handed it to Sam, the attendant arrived, turning off the call button. "Can I help you?"

Al looked up at the young man. "Yes. Could my friend get some water and a blanket?"

The attendant smiled lightly. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Al stated as the man walked off towards the back of the plane, the front being blocked several rows up by the service cart.

As the attendant walked away, Sam wiped at his face. "I'm cold and sweating. That can't be good."

At the complaint, Al rested his hand lightly on his friend's forehead. "You feel a little feverish. You're the one that's always telling me he has the M.D. What do you think it is?"

"I don't know," Sam shrugged feeling to out of sorts and too tired to try to diagnose himself. Flu…bronchitis…ear infection. I don't know."

The woman that was in the aisle seat next to Sam had appeared to ignore them through the flight after the initial interaction between her and Al. At the mention of the possible illnesses, she glared once more at Sam.

"Wonderful," Al stated, sarcastically as he noticed the woman staring and called over to her, "Don't worry, he won't cough on you."

"People who are sick shouldn't travel in my opinion," she argued back at him.

Sam had thought he'd kept his voice pitched so only his friend could hear him. Evidently, he'd been wrong, probably due to the congestion. "Great, I'll be the pariah of flight 57," he said making sure his voice was even lower this time.

"Don't worry about it, Sam." Al looked at the woman, "Why don't you stick..." he started when the attendant came back with the requested items. "...to yourself," he finished.

The attendant looked between Al and the woman. "There are two seats in the back row if you'd prefer them. They might offer you a little more privacy," he aimed at Sam.

"That might be for best," Sam agreed knowing the man also wanted to try to get him as removed from the other passengers as possible. He got up to follow the attendant to the empty seats. He found himself unsteady but wasn't sure if that was due to the motion of the plane, his ears, or a combination of the two.

Al grabbed the bag beneath his seat, giving the woman, who now appeared quite pleased with herself, a final glare. Reaching the back of the plane, he slipped into the window seat, giving Sam the choice of either the middle seat or the aisle.

"Want me to leave the seat between us empty?" Sam asked before sitting.

"Nah. I don't mind. I hardly ever get what you have," Al responded.

"Ok." Choosing to sit in the middle seat, Sam accepted the blanket and bottle of water from the attendant, putting both on the empty aisle seat for the moment. "Thank you," he said to the man.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well," the attendant offered before leaving to assist with the distribution of snacks and drinks from the cart.

"I hate nosy old biddies like that," Al said as he buckled in. "It's not like you planned this."

"I can't really blame her. I wouldn't want to catch whatever someone else had on an airplane any more than she wants to catch what I have." After buckling in, Sam tried to recline the seat back only to find out it didn't go back since it was the last row. "Oh great."

Al noticed the dilemma. "Maybe you could put the arm up and lean into the aisle seat."

"Maybe I can put both arms up and lie across all three and use you as a pillow," Sam suggested sourly then relented. "It's not your fault. I just have to deal with it. Do you have the bottle of pain meds?"

"Um. I gave them to you. Did you put them in your pocket?"

Sam checked his pockets then shook his head. "I must have dropped them."

"You want to go back and check or you want me to?"

"I'll do it. I'm the one who dropped them." Sam got up to go look but, again, felt unsteady. "Um...maybe you better."

"Ok. Be back in a minute." Al got up, moved past Sam, and started forward again. The cart had reached their previous seat. When he reached the attendant that had helped them, he provided, "My friend dropped his medicine. Could you move the cart back so I can check his seat?"

The attendant let out a small breath but simply explained to the other attendant on the other side of the cart. Al quickly bent into the seats they had vacated, finding the bottle in the space between the two seats where it had lodged as Sam had gotten up. "Thank you," Al offered to the attendant as he moved away again. The biddy glared once more but Al didn't say anything, simply glaring back. He made his way back to Sam. "Here you go, Kid," he stated as Sam got up to let him in again.

Sam accepted the bottle held out to him. "Thanks. Maybe I'll just fall asleep after I take it and everyone will forget I'm here."

"I hope so." Al stated. Their movements had generated an interest. When he saw Sam's expression he added, "People are too nosy sometimes."

"It's human nature." Sam took one of the pills with the water then tried to get as comfortable as possible, pulling the blanket over himself.

Al looked at his watch, then tucked the blanket in around his friend's shoulders. "Well, only two and a half more hours and you won't have to worry about them anymore."

"Hmmm," Sam responded noncommittally.

It took a bit more time but eventually the cart reached the two men. By that time, Sam was asleep and Al didn't think he should wake him. He took some extra pretzels in case Sam woke up hungry, though.

When the flight hit the thirty-minute mark and they began their decent, Al watched Sam carefully. He knew the pressure would probably build up and sleep or no sleep the kid would probably feel it.

Although the other man didn't wake up, he did move uncomfortably in his sleep. The wheels hitting the ground was a bit rougher than usual producing enough of a jolt to spring Sam's eyes open.

"What? What is it?" the younger man asked, as he looked around disoriented.

Al put his hand out to steady his friend. "We just landed. It was a bit bumpier then it should have been but there's nothing wrong."

Sam settled back in the seat. "Almost home."

"Yeah. Well, about four hours if we don't pick up Comet," Al replied. He wasn't sure if Sam would insist on picking up his cat. He hoped not. The sooner they got home and Sam into his own bed the better from his point of view.

"We can't just leave him there. Rachel knows we were getting in today." Sam blew out a breath. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed.

"Rachel won't mind. She's had to deal with your respiratory infections from hell enough times that I'm sure she'll understand if we need for her to keep Comet a little longer."

"Call her when we get off the plane. Let her know I'll come and get him tomorrow."

Al's gaze held a _you're kidding_ message in it. "I'll give her a call but we can play it by ear as to picking up Comet."

Sam nodded. He wasn't sure he'd be able to drive to Rachel's the following day anyway. Right now, he'd consider himself lucky if he could get through to Monday without Al hogtieing him and dragging him off to the ER tomorrow. If he was lucky, Al would at least wait and drag him to his doctor's office on Monday.

Seeing that the younger man was being reasonable for once, Al's worry went up a few notches. It meant that he was feeling worse than he let on. "You think it's about time to take some more cold meds?" he asked.

"I guess so. If you don't mind doing the driving, I'll just take the ones that make me drowsy."

"Sam, right now if you _wanted_ to drive, I'd refuse." As they pulled to the gate and the seatbelt sign was turned off, Al noticed the number of heads popping up in front of them. "Looks like it's going to be awhile."

Sam groaned slightly. "Yeah."

The two waited in silence for the twenty minutes it took until they could get up. Retrieving their carry-ons, they slogged off the plane then moved to the luggage area. Thankfully, being the last off the plane had one advantage. Their luggage was waiting for them on the conveyer, most of the other luggage already taken by their owners.

"You look beat, Kid. I'd hardly believe you slept on the plane," Al said once they were on the way to Sam's car.

"I think everything's just catching up to me. It'll be good to get home."

"You can say that again." They got to the car, put their luggage in, and left. They'd driven about ten minutes when Al realized he hadn't called Rachel. Pulling over to a convenience store, he made a quick phone call at the pay phone and then went inside for a few minutes. Coming out, he got in the car, handing a bag to Sam. "I got you some juice and a root beer for me." He started the car and drove off quickly, not wanting to waste any time.

"Thanks." As Sam uncapped the juice, he noticed his hands trembling slightly. "I guess I haven't eaten that much today."

"They might be a little dry, but the cinnamon rolls are in my carryon," Al told him, nodding slightly to the backseat. "I also snagged you some pretzels on the plane. Either that or I can turn around and get something at that store we just left."

"I'm really not hungry. I guess I should be but…"

"Like you said, you need to eat. Otherwise, you're likely to get even sicker."

"I'll eat the pretzels, then." Sam didn't think he had the energy to argue. He reached back and pulled Al's bag to the front. As he was looking for the pretzels, he noticed a small wrapped three inch square present. Feeling a bit guilty, he checked the tag. It was made out to Rachel from the two of them. "I didn't know you got something for Rachel."

"Yeah. When I was out getting our tux shirts. I found a cat pin I thought she'd like. You know, a thank you for watching Comet for us."

"I should have thought of that," Sam said frustrated. "He's my cat and I didn't even think of getting her anything. Damn it. I've been too wrapped up in myself to think about anybody else."

Al shrugged. "I told you to stay in, remember? It wasn't like you really had the chance."

"I had plenty of time when we were in Macy's but I just couldn't think about anything but the meeting Thursday and the sightseeing we were doing."

"That was on my mind too." Al replied although which of the two things Sam mentioned wasn't clear until he asked the next question. "Did you really believe I'd try to sabotage you?" He hoped it wasn't too soon for the question but as much as he and Sam had resolved today, there was still much they hadn't.

He'd hoped that had all been put behind them but now, Sam knew, it hadn't. "Deep down, no, I didn't. It would have hurt too much if I did."

Al's face was all seriousness as he responded, "I'm glad because you _can_ count on me. I want you to succeed." He sighed. "I'm not going to lie and say it's going to be easy to forget what happened this past week but I know we'll weather it." He turned slightly to glance at Sam with a smile, his eyes lighting up mischievously as his demeanor changed. "But, I do have the pleasure of having won the bet."

Sam turned to face Al. He'd forgotten about the bet they'd made and now considered it foolish, at best. "What?"

"Last night? Your dinner companion? If she'd been any closer, she would have crawled inside you. You sure didn't appear to mind. In fact, I'd say you were rather taken with her."

"After everything that happened, you still care about that?"

"Don't you remember what happens if I win? Which I did."

"I don't care about any of that and I can't believe you do? After everything that happened last night and today, you want go through on that?" Sam honestly couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was as if the other man had completely put aside everything they'd been through.

"What's wrong with going through with it? Cindy's a nice girl, Sam. I just thought, once you get better, it'll be nice to go out. You've got to admit, we did have fun the other night."

"No," Sam said flatly.

"We didn't have fun?"

"I'm not going to talk about this."

"Hmmm. Ok," Al replied as he continued to drive down the highway towards Alamogordo.

Sam had been hoping that he could just put aside how the day had started but the almost cavalier way Al had brought up the previous night felt like salt being poured into wounds that were still raw. He felt his emotional control crumbling. This morning, he thought he'd lost the dearest friend he'd ever had because of what had happened last night and here Al was treating it so lightly. "It's not ok," he said in a low voice.

"Why not? Are you saying she didn't have your interests peaked cause if you are, I'm not buying it."

"I don't care about all that." Sam's voice was raw with emotion. "I wish I could change everything that happened last night and today."

"What are you saying, Sam?" Al asked once more.

"What am I saying?" Sam echoed in surprise. "What do you think I'm saying?"

"I really don't know. I'm completely confounded."

"I just want to forget everything about last night and you're bringing it up because of a bet? Don't you care what almost happened?"

"Of course I care about what almost happened. That's why I'm trying to figure out a way to put it behind us."

"By reminding me of it? By making a joke of it? That's how you want to put it behind us? So you can win a stupid bet?"

"No, not win a 'stupid' bet and I'm not making a joke of it. I'm trying to find something that replaces it. Something I want to remember versus something that hurts to remember."

"But it doesn't matter if it's hurting me?"

"You think that's what I'm trying to do?"

"I don't know if you're trying or not but that's what you're doing."

"I'm sorry I brought it up," Al said, hurt present in his own voice.

"I'm sorry, Al. It's just...it's too soon."

"Yeah. Too soon," the older man replied somewhat more distant than he'd been before.

"Damn it," Sam exclaimed.

Al's head snapped to look at Sam. He could see the frustration in the other man. "What do you want from me?" he asked.

Sam shook his head slowly. "I don't know," he said sadly. He turned to look out the window, resting his forehead against the glass.

Al's eyes turned back to the road. He wished he could reach out to Sam again but the kid didn't get it. Didn't understand that if he was going to have to deal with the pain the night before and this morning had caused, he needed to move it away from him - needed to distance those emotions. Like he'd tried to explain, he had to put something else in its place. He was at a loss as to how to have that make sense to his friend. It was apparently the diametric opposite of what Sam needed.

Sam looked at Al with pain in his eyes. "I just want it fixed. Just make it ok, again." He was pleading and didn't care how it sounded.

"It will be fixed. Just not tonight." Al reached out to squeeze his friend's shoulder in reassurance. "Like you said, it's too soon."

Sam nodded shallowly as he tried to hold back a cough. He didn't trust himself to say anything else for fear of pushing his friend away any further than he already had.

Al gave one more squeeze then put his hand back on the steering wheel. He remembered what they'd talked about earlier that day when he'd shown Sam the hospital bracelet. They didn't mean to, but the hurt was going both ways again as they re-found their footing.

Quiet reigned for the rest of the long drive with both men wrapped up in his own thoughts. The only sounds were the occasional cough or sniffle from Sam. Twice, Sam turned to Al to say something but stopped before any words came out. He didn't know what to say. He'd thought after they'd talked in the hotel that things would be worked out and they'd be able to put this behind them as no more than a bump in the road. As it often times happened, it was easier said than done. He felt as if he were alone and adrift right now.

"We're home, Kid," Al said as he pulled into the garage and turned off the car.

"Hmm?" Sam questioned shaking himself to alertness. He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn't paid attention to where they were.

"Home. Listen, why don't you go on in and start getting settled. I'll bring in the luggage."

"I can help." Sam opened the door and got out. "What'd Rachel say when you called her? You never told me."

The two men gathered their things, continuing the conversation. "Actually, it's going to work out pretty good. Her family's got a cabin rented in Cloudcroft for the holidays. She's heading out there tomorrow and said she'll drop Comet off since she'll be close to us. She also told me you'd better take it easy and get over whatever it is you've got. She suggested taking more vitamin C."

"Already told you, that doesn't help after the fact," Sam pointed out as pulled his suitcase from the car. "That's nice she can drop Comet off so you don't have to do all that driving again tomorrow."

"Hey, you told me, you didn't tell her. I'm just the messenger. You wanted to know what she said. I'm pretty happy about the driving bit myself. You know I don't mind it most of the time but during holiday season there's way too many nuts on the road." Al put things down on the stoop as he pulled out his key and opened the door to allow Sam in, following with his things.

"I know. Some holiday this is turning out to be. We never even got a tree."

"I thought you said it wouldn't be practical to put up a tree with us going to New York."

"There would have been time if we didn't have to waste our time there. I could have gone out for the seminar and then come back like I'd originally planned."

"Well, if you'd known then what you know now, that would have been an easy decision. It wasn't all bad. You got some great pictures of the Big Apple all dressed up for the season."

"You knew," Sam said in response to the first of Al's statement. "You knew and I didn't listen." He shook his head slightly not wanting to go down that particular road right now. "I'm going to bed."

Al was going to point out that before the previous night he'd simply suspected. He'd had no proof. He couldn't blame Sam for still feeling he had to move forward up to the disastrous blacktie. It was only there that the nozzles had shown enough of their hand for Al's suspicions to kick into high gear and then he'd only played into their hands. Once more, he gave a silent thanks to Dr. Gooshman for his phone call. "Yeah. Getting to bed would be a good idea. We can unpack tomorrow."

"Good night, Al," Sam said with an underlying sadness in his voice.

"Good night, Sam," Al responded, hearing the tone in the other man's voice. "Don't worry. We've been through some heavy stuff recently but it's going to be ok."

Sam nodded then went into his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him. He changed into a pair or warm sweats and got under the covers. He hoped sleep would come sooner than later.

_It was dark and Sam had the oddest sensation that he was bobbing up and down. He was startled when he realized that he **was** bobbing up and down and was surrounded on all sides by water. He couldn't see how far it went. There wasn't light from the moon to see._

_Off in the distance he thought he saw a faint light that started to get closer and closer until he was finally able to make out the shape of a boat with a man standing at the bow. As the boat got closer still, he was able to identify the man as his friend. "Al? Help me," he begged._

_The man in the boat said nothing, but instead, only watched Sam as he floated on the water. Again, he asked for help as the waves started to get bigger, crashing over him and choking him. Without a sound, the boat started to move off from him._

"_Al," he called out. "No. Don't leave me. Don't leave me."_

Awoken from sleep by the sound of shouting, it took only a moment to realize Sam was in distress although Al couldn't exactly make out all the words, just his name. Grabbing his robe, he pulled it on as he ran down the stairs flipping on the light switch, pushing open his friend's door, and realizing from the light in the hall that the kid was entangled in what looked to be a nightmare.

He moved quickly to the bed and sat on the side, putting his hand on Sam's chest in a soothing fashion, much as he had during their landing earlier when Sam had startled. "It's ok, Kid. There's nothing here to be afraid of." He noticed that Sam felt warm and used his other hand to check his forehead. By touch, he figured that Sam's temperature was probably several degrees above normal. "Oh, Sammy, whatever you've got's getting worse."

Feeling the touch, Sam called out for his friend again. "Don't leave me, Al. Please."

"I'm right here, Sam. I'm not leaving. You're just having a nightmare. Probably caused by the fever."

Sam moaned softly then cracked his eyes open a little. He didn't say anything as raw, painful coughs were ripped out of him. He struggled to pull himself upright.

Al helped his friend sit up and then told him, "I'm going to get your Nyquil and water for you. You didn't take a dose before you went to bed, did you." he surmised

Not hearing the almost question, just the statement that Al was going, Sam grabbed on to his arm. "No. Don't leave. Don't go." He was still more asleep than awake.

Feeling the grip on his arm, the older man put a hand over Sam's hand to remove it gently. "Sam, wake up. I don't know what's going through that noggin again but I'm not going to leave. I'm just going to get your medicine." He used his other hand to switch on the bedside light hoping it would pull Sam out of whatever situation he was apparently trapped in.

When Sam felt his hand removed, he was desperate to regain the hold again. The sudden flood of light made him squint his eyes and turn away from it but he still kept groping for the hold on his friend.

Despairing that his words and light didn't appear to help matters and seeing Sam reaching out for him, Al took hold of the other man to give him a rocking hug. "We're home, Kid. Not wherever you think you are. Please wake up and you'll see we're home."

Feeling the hold on him, Sam relaxed into the hug. His arms loosely went around Al's waist as he rested his head on his shoulder. "Light hurts," he murmured.

"Oh. Sorry. I thought it might help to wake you up. You're going to have to let go so I can reach the switch and I'll turn it off."

Sam squeezed his arms harder. "No. Wanna sleep."

Al smiled. "Yes, you need sleep...but you need some things first. Come on, Sam. Open your eyes and you'll banish whatever you were dreaming about. It was just a nightmare."

"Nuh uh," Sam disagreed. "Gonna sl..." his voice trailed off as he dropped back to sleep never having really woken up.

Al felt Sam relax again. The fever was still high and he knew the kid needed something for it. He doubted as tired as they'd been when they got home that Sam had taken anything since before they left Albuquerque. He laid Sam down, turned off the bedside light, and took the time to readjust the pillows and blankets. Then he went into the kitchen for a glass of water and retrieved the Nyquil from Sam's bag. He measured out a dose and went back into Sam's room sitting down on the bed and putting the water on the coaster on the table. Shaking Sam softly, he told him, "Hey, Kid. I've got something for you. Can you wake up enough to drink it?"

Sam squinted his eyes open. "Al?" he asked when he saw his friend sitting on the bed. "Somethin' wrong?" He had no memory of the dream.

"You've got a fever. You've been having nightmares," Al stated. "I've got some Nyquil for you here."

"'K," Sam agreed before levering himself up. He accepted the small cup of Nyquil and drank it down in one swallow, making a face at the taste. "Can I have some water?"

Exchanging the two containers, Al handed the ill man the glass of water. "All the water you want, Kid."

Once Sam had drunk his fill, Al took the glass back from him and put it on the table. He smoothed the blankets over him and fluffed up his pillows. "You want to talk about it?"

"Talk about it? Now?"

"Yeah. You apparently had one doozy of a nightmare. You want to talk about it?"

"Oh. That." Sam shrugged. "I don't remember it. I just feel so...lost right now."

Al let out a sigh not knowing what he could say to the other man to soothe his thoughts other than a generic platitude. "Things will get better. Now, why don't you just lay back to try to get some sleep."

Sam smiled. "Yeah. Sleep."

Al got up and once more made sure the kid was comfortable before going back to his room. Sam continued to have a difficult night, however, and eventually Al just carried his blanket down to Sam's room, sleeping in the armchair there. Each time he reached out to soothe the ill man's sleep, the kid couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about but a fear of being lost or alone sewed the dreams together. Al just hoped this was just a temporary result of the virus that had taken hold of his friend.

Sam opened his eyes, the morning sun creeping around the edges of the blinds at his window. He recognized that he was in his bedroom and remembered the trip home the previous day. His body ached, his head was pounding, he had chills, and he was thirsty, which told him that he still was dealing with what Al called the virus from hell. Not that the term was specific. Al called all of them that. Looking to his left, he saw a glass of water and pulled himself up to drink from it. After the first few sips, he noticed a soft snoring in the room and looked over to see Al slumbering in the chair.

He had a vague recollection of Al sitting beside him during the night but the memory was surreal. He was, to be honest, somewhat surprised that Al had chosen to sleep in the chair based on the conflicting and changing situations of the last few days. Sure, his friend had done so before. Several times, in fact, when either injury or illness had conspired to disturb the younger man's sleep. Still, when Sam had gone to bed the previous night he wasn't sure if their friendship hadn't been irreparably damaged despite Al's insistence that things would eventually be ok. Sam let out a frustrated sigh. He still wasn't sure.

The sound of the sigh appeared to wake Al. He opened his eyes, his body in motion almost immediately before he noticed that Sam was awake but not in distress...at least not obvious distress as had occurred throughout the previous night. Standing down from action, he greeted his friend. "Morning, Kid. How do you feel?"

"Lousy," Sam replied, his voice thick from the congestion.

"Your medicine's worn off, I bet. Let me get you a fresh dose."

As Al started for the door, Sam asked him, "Why are you doing this?'"

"What? Getting your medicine? Because, Dr. Beckett, you're sick," he replied emphasizing the word doctor.

"I get that, Al," Sam snapped immediately sorry. "I mean," he continued in a much nicer tone, "_Why_ are you doing this. I thought you were peeved at me."

"I am peeved at you," the older man admitted. Sam was going to say something more when Al walked out only to come back in a few moments later with various boxes and bottles. "What do you want to take first?"

"Why?" Sam asked again. "Is it because of that stupid bet?"

"I just don't think you should renege on it. I was really looking forward to going out again when we got back. You've got to admit, it's seldom that I even get close to winning a bet like this with the prudent prince."

'I'm not reneging, Al. It's the reason why. I...we were being set up and I wasn't exactly 'of sound mind' Friday night. I feel like when you use that as a basis to win the bet, you're belittling what happened. I want to put it behind me...forget it...not have my bad behavior brought up."

"I'm not belittling anything. What Requin and LoNigro set up was unconscionable. I'm still not sure what's going to happen to my career after my performance. You may need to get another partner now no matter who you go with for funding. But...if the only bit of joy I can take away from the night is seeing you acting like me, I'll take it."

"Great. You're taking joy 'cause I let myself get drunk...on top of taking the cold meds...and play into their hands. Thanks a lot."

"Speaking of cold meds, you still haven't told me what you want to take right now," Al stated first before continuing the discussion. "I've been through some pretty serious things in my life, Sam. Being a prisoner in 'Nam may have warped me somewhat, but I've learned to take whatever joy I can even when it's not necessarily a good thing. Seriously, I haven't seen your eyes light up like that since..." He trailed off, realizing that what he'd been about to say would have hurt the kid worse than what was going on in the present conversation even if Al thought what had happened with Donna was for the best.

Sam didn't pick up on what Al was about to say and chose the daytime cold med since it would address the majority of his symptoms. "That wasn't me, though," he insisted. "You know I'd never act like that. And if she hadn't been put up to it by Requin, she never would have even given me the time of day. I don't want to base anything on what happened Friday night. That just makes a rotten foundation. Please, I need you to try to understand that."

"You don't know that, Sam. I mean about whether she was interested in you or not. If there's one thing I do know it's how to read the ladies and I think, while Requin may have brought her in to distract you, she probably wasn't in on the whole scheme. As to you, ok, I admit you usually keep control of your natural instincts...to the extreme in my opinion...but all the drugs and alcohol did was lower your inhibitions. You were interested and you acted on it. You think it's fair that I had to act like a perfect gentleman for a week and you get off scot free? It was you that started this bet in the first place."

"I absolve you of any of it, Al. Hit on all the women you like if it makes you happy." Sam lay down and pulled the blanket over his head. "I want no part of it," he mumbled.

It was Al's turn to let out a frustrated sigh. "Whatever, Sam. I'm going to get you some tea and toast 'cause you need to eat something. Then you can just get some rest. The older man walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

When he heard the door close, Sam pulled the blankets down and rolled over onto his stomach, wrapping his arms around the pillows. No matter what, it seemed, things weren't getting any better. He and Al had reached an impasse and he didn't know any way around it. Requin might not be getting his project but it looked like he and LoNigro may have accomplished their goal of driving a wedge between him and Al.

Dragging himself from the bed, he went out to the living room and looked for his carryon. Finding it, he rummaged through it until he found the information from the Millennium Group. He wasn't going to wait until tomorrow to call and give Requin a piece of his mind. "What?" he demanded when he saw that Al had come into the room and was watching him. He had a plate and steaming mug in his hand.

"I would have brought that to you," Al stated nodding to the carryon. "You didn't sleep well last night. I'd think you'd want to stay in bed."

"I'm fine," Sam snapped. He picked up the phone and dialed the number he had for Requin. When the man's voicemail answered after four rings, he slammed the phone down.

Al walked over to Sam. "What's this all about?" he asked, noticing the papers in the other man's hand but not knowing what they were.

"I'm calling Requin to let him know where he can shove his funding and to thank him for ruining one of the only things that really matters." He dialed the number again and, once more, voicemail picked up after the fourth ring. "Damn him, he's not there."

"It's Sunday. Why would you think he'd be there?"

"Because," Sam grumbled.

Al put the plate and mug down before taking the papers out of Sam's hand and put them beside the phone before physically turning his friend back toward the bedroom. "He'll be there tomorrow and expecting to take your call. You can tell him then but I don't know that ruining would be the best claim."

Sam turned back around. "How about destroyed? That one work for you? Or how about shattered or trashed or sabotaged? Any of those work?"

"You're getting overworked about this, Kid." He picked up the toast and tea again and followed Sam back to his room. "None of those words work for me because none of them will be true. You can be upset with Requin and company for a lot of reasons but just because I'm upset with the way things are at the moment doesn't mean anything has to go that far. Why don't you go back to bed, eat the toast, and then get some more rest. I think the virus is affecting your perspective."

"But that's how I feel. Don't you see? I feel like there's this chasm or something between us now and I don't know how to get across it. I can't think and feel the way you want me too and I know that's making you angry and this wouldn't be happening if it weren't for him. I just need..." A cough interrupted Sam before he could say anything else. He sat down on the bed.

Al put the plate on the bedside table and handed the mug to Sam. While the younger man sipped at it, he addressed his friend's concern. "You know, for someone with such an interest in temporal effects, you sure live in the moment," he stated. "Time, Sam. At the moment, yeah, I'm frustrated with things. You're frustrated with things. We both know where we want to be and neither one of us is ready to build the bridge. Doesn't mean the chasm is uncrossable. Remember, the Panama canal wasn't built in a day and neither was anything else that stands the test of time. We'll get there."

Sam nodded wordlessly, putting the mug down and swinging his legs back onto the bed and adjusting the covers. "I'll go back to bed." Al nodded slightly and walked out of the room. Sam curled on his side and pulled the blankets closer over him. "Please let it be ok," he whispered to whatever entity might be listening.

Al checked on Sam about a half hour after he'd left the room and found the toast had two bites out of it, the mug was empty, and his friend was asleep. Straightening the covers, he walked out taking the dishes with him and closed the door. He started to unpack the suitcases, separating the laundry and put what things he could away. Finishing that, he paused. The kid was sick, worried, frustrated, and depressed. He knew that his stubbornness was playing a role in everything but he wasn't ready to concede. He considered what else he could do to cheer him up. Moon pies probably wouldn't work this time. Looking over to the pile of Christmas cards they'd received, Al got an idea. Going to the attic, he pulled down a few boxes and set to work. He was positive what he had planned was sure to bring out the joy in one Samuel John Beckett.

Sam stretched and opened his eyes surprised that it was near dark. He'd been sleeping longer than he'd realized. He stretched again and this time felt movement behind him on the bed when he did so. He looked over his shoulder to see what the movement was. "Where'd you come from?" he asked the cat.

He rolled over to his back and half sat up against the pillows. When he did, Comet took that as his cue to climb in his master's lap, start kneading the blankets over his chest and purr.

"I missed you too," Sam said as he scratched between the cat's ears. The attention earned him a louder purr.

He looked over at the clock by his bedside and saw that it was nearly five thirty. That would explain why the room was dark and also what Comet was doing in bed with him. Rachel must have come by while he was sleeping.

There was a tap on the door. "Sam?"

"Come on in, Al." The cat continued to knead him and mark him as his own.

"I thought I heard you in here. You've been sleeping all day. I hope Comet didn't disturb you. I sort of had to keep him out of the other room and he was begging to come in here."

"No. I didn't even know he was here until a minute ago."

"Good." He paused. "You getting hungry? I made some of Ruthie's chicken soup. Good for what ails you and you probably need to get a little more into you than that tea and toast i I brought you this morning."

"I guess I could eat a little something."

"Good. You feeling well enough to come to the table or should I fix you a tray and bring it in?"

"I'll get up." Sam pushed the cat off him so he could get out of the bed. When he stood up, he swayed in place for a moment. "Woah. I think I'm a little light-headed."

Al had started to move closer to Sam but was waved off. He gave his friend a light smile. "You have been horizontal most of the day. I guess your body wasn't expecting being vertical that fast. Besides, you really need more in you that a few bites of toast."

"I think you're right," Sam agreed. He started to walk towards the bedroom door but Comet decided to jump off the bed and weave between his legs, tripping him. Al grabbing on to him quickly saved him from falling face first to the floor. "Thanks," he said to his friend then directed his attention to the cat that was now sitting and looking up at him. "I'm not up to games right now."

"Maybe I'd better help you to the table, just in case," the older man suggested, glaring at the cat.

"That might not be a bad idea," Sam agreed. "He's just happy to be home."

"Yeah. You should have seen him when Rachel let him out of his carrier. He was jumping all over the place," Al explained as he walked Sam to the door.

"I guess he's just a homebody like m..." Sam trailed off as he took in the living. By the sliding doors that led out the patio, a decorated Christmas tree twinkled merrily. He looked between it and his friend. "How? Did you?"

"It wasn't hard and yes," Al answered, glad he was there to provide some support for his friend. He wasn't sure but based on the weight that had increased on his arm, if he hadn't been, Sam may have hit the floor at the sight.

"But...I thought we weren't going to do anything this year 'cause it was so close." Sam shook off the hold on him and moved closer to the tree.

"That was the plan, yeah," Al agreed. "But then I thought why not? You love Christmas and it does make the place look festive. If I do say so myself, I don't think New York has anything on what our house looks like decked out like this."

"You did this for me?" Sam asked still trying to understand why Al had spent his day putting up Christmas decorations that wouldn't be up for very long. In addition to the tree, Sam could see lights in the windows and other decorations around the living room.

"Why would you question that?" Al said with a soft smile. "You're my best friend, Kid. Nothing changes that. If it makes you happy, I figured the time was well spent."

Sam looked down for a moment trying to gather his emotions then pulled Al into a bear hug. "Thank you. I wasn't so sure about that anymore. Thank you."

Al hugged the other man back. Over the past six years he'd gotten better at accepting them when Sam's emotions caused him to reach for physical contact to express them. After a bit, though, he patted Sam as his signal that it was getting a bit too 'mushy' for him. "You don't ever need to wonder about that, Sam. I don't take friendships like we have lightly. It would take a lot more than what happened in New York to change that."

"I know that now, Al." Sam knew his friend would get uncomfortable with the mushiness but asked him not to let go yet. "I might fall over if you do," he added with a chuckle.

"Yeah. Good point." Al changed positions slightly so that he could help Sam the rest of the way to the table that now sported the handmade Christmas placemats Thelma had sent a few years before. "We need to build up your strength again."

"I guess we do." Once Sam was sitting, Comet hopped up on the empty chair beside him and stared. "Well, come on," he said as he gestured the cat to hop over to his lap. "I'm not spoiling him," he said to Al before his friend could make the accusation. "He missed us...and I missed him too. This is just a onetime thing." He switched his attention to the cat. "You hear that. After this, no more sitting in my lap while I eat."

Al rolled his eyes and chuckled slightly. "Like he's going to listen." He went into the kitchen and there was the sound of activity before he came out carrying a tray with bowls filled with chicken soup, a basket with baked rolls, and other necessary items for their meal. "I put a little more celery in the soup just the way you like it," he told him.

Sam smiled softly. "You know, someday, you're going to make someone a very good mother."

Al shook his head. "Nah. This gig is close enough."

As Sam started to spoon up the soup, a furry head poked over the table. "Hey, head down or you're going on the floor," Sam advised. Instead of doing as he was told, the cat, instead looked up at Sam. "You know, you're pushing your luck." Unphased, Comet didn't move. "Ok, you asked for it. Al, you want to get him on the floor."

"You're making me the bad guy?" Al asked in mocked shock. He wasn't one hundred percent sure that was the reason though. The kid still looked pale and while dropping the cat to the floor under normal circumstance might be easy, right now it could be a major task to complete. He moved over to Sam and took Comet out of his lap. When the animal protested with a loud incensed 'meow,' Al held him up face to face. "He'll play with you later."

"Thanks," Sam said once the cat was on the floor. "He seems to obey you better than me...and I didn't want to drop him."

"You couldn't hurt him if you did. Comet and I have that nine lives thing going, remember?"

"Maybe but I don't want to use up all the lives." Sam started eating his soup again. Nonchalantly, he said, "I'm still not going out on any dates you set up."

"We'll see," Al responded non-committedly as he sat down as well, putting his napkin in his lap. "Roll?" he asked holding the basket out towards Sam.

"No, thank you. Just the soup's fine...and there's nothing to see about." He kept his head down eating. "I'm not the only one who didn't keep his end of things."

"Oh yeah? When did I ever let my gentlemanly behavior slip?"

"When?" Sam asked. His eyes seemed to turn inward for a moment as he brought up a memory. "Does 'You want me to come with you? I thought you had the hots for me earlier. Your place or mine, baby?' mean anything to you?"

Al's jaw dropped and this time the surprise wasn't mocked. "Hey. I was acting...trying to get your butt out of Requin's hands." He realized what he had just said as Sam's eyebrows raised. "You know what I mean. That doesn't count."

Sam shuddered at the mental picture that came to him. "Really great mental imagery. And if that doesn't count, then it doesn't count for me either. I had too much to drink and was being set up. They cancel each other out," he said with finality.

Al's eyes narrowed and he didn't respond, going back to his soup. A minute went by and as Sam was ready to say something more, Al piped up. "Ok. Here's the deal. They cancel each other out and nothing more will be said about it."

"All right then..." Sam started before Al interrupted him.

"But, as a favor to your best friend, after you beat this latest bout of 'name the virus' you go on a double date with Maureen and me. Deal?"

"No way," Sam disagreed. "Then you win. You want to go out like we did in New York, ok, I'll do that but no dates...unless you find one while we're out."

Al sucked on his tooth for a moment. He could tell Maureen and Cindy to go to the club and they could meet up. Not really a 'date' and thus would fit Sam's criteria. "Deal."

"Deal," Sam echoed, reaching across the table and offering his hand to shake on it.

The two men resumed their meal and, for a moment, it was quiet. Sam broke the quiet when he, almost embarrassedly said, "You know, they weren't real...at least I don't think they were."

"What," Al asked, not sure what direction Sam's mind had taken. As a master of tangent surfing, the 'weren't real' could refer to almost anything.

"That model," Sam said not looking up from his food. "When she...uh...pressed against me...I don't think they were real."

"Her pom poms? Of course not. You could see that a mile away," Al responded. "Still, they made up a nice package."

"Allll!," Sam said in chastisement then started to cough. He reached for the glass of water by his plate. "Geez," he complained once the coughing had stopped.

"What?" Al asked in all innocence. He smiled as he continued, counting her many assets. "You got to admit, she was a knockout. Great legs, firm butt, lovely neck just begging for lips to..." He paused, with a frown as a thought intruded. "Why are we talking about her? I thought you wanted to forget about all that."

"I did but...I guess I was doing some thinking the few times I was awake today…and well...maybe your approach wasn't completely wrong. That doesn't mean it's right either," Sam quickly added. "Just...maybe we were both a little bit wrong and a little bit right."

"I never said you were wrong to pursue this path, Sam. If the Millennium Group had been on the up and up, then it could have been a good way to fund your project. And yeah, looking back I probably should have thought through that half-ass plan but I really didn't know what else to do with you impaired like that." He glanced over to Sam. "I did a pretty good acting job though, didn't I?"

"A little too good," Sam agreed. "But that wasn't what I was talking about."

"Ok. I'm not a mind reader, Kid, even though you've given me enough chances to develop that skill during the past six years. You mind telling me what you _are_ talking about?

"Last night and this morning you brought up what happened Friday night trying to find something good in it and I nearly took your head off 'cause I just want to forget all about it. I don't think either one of us is completely right or wrong in dealing with it." Sam stirred the remaining soup in his bowl as he gathered his thoughts then put the spoon down. "Sometimes, you don't know what you've got until after you lose it. Maybe...maybe Friday night is a good way to remind me what I do have...what we have...and what I almost lost. It still hurts like hell and I don't think I'll be able to find the good in it like you want to but maybe I need it to remind me what I almost threw away."

"I'm glad you didn't throw it away. I know I gave you reason to suspect that I had nefarious intentions by leading you by the nose Friday night and for that, I'm really, really sorry." He paused for a moment as if deciding exactly how to continue. "Six years ago you took a chance on me...I know, initially it wasn't from a purely altruistic part of you...but you did it. Our friendship's built from that and the idea that I could have made you want to toss it hurts me like hell as well. I don't want to diminish the importance of what we just went through...but if I can look back on what happened and selectively recall something that doesn't bring that pain back, it's a win in my book. I'm sorry if the way I dealt with it caused you any pain."

"That's all I wanted, Al," Sam said with a soft smile. "Just to know you understood how I felt and you weren't disregarding it. Thank you."

"Well. Looks like we finally got that bridge we needed," Al responded. "You want to watch a movie tonight?"

"I guess. I'm not sure how much of it I'll see thought. You'd think after sleeping almost the whole day, I'd be wide awake now but I still feel wiped out. I guess you're probably going to haul my butt to the doctor tomorrow."

"If you're agreeing already maybe we should go to the ER tonight."

"No," Sam quickly disagreed. "I don't need that."

"Ok, just checking." After a short pause, the older man started, "Have you thought abou..." but then stopped, obviously not sure he should go on.

"About what?" Sam asked. He finished the soup in the bowl and pushed it away slightly.

"About what direction you want to go now. We could look for more investors in the private sector if you want. Millennium Group isn't the only fish in the sea."

"Not really. I haven't felt much like thinking about any of that right now." Sam shrugged slightly. "Maybe after the new year I'll think about it more. Right now, I'd like to just get over this flu or whatever and enjoy the holidays."

"Sounds good. I just want you to know that whatever you decide...if I can help you...you know I'll be there."

"We decide," Sam corrected. "I think, this time, maybe I shouldn't rush off and make the decision by myself."

"It's your project, Kid. Your dream. I'm just along for the ride."

"Not anymore, Al. I want us to be partners on this. It might be my dream but you've got the know how to pull it off. "

Al looked down, overwhelmed by the trust Sam was putting in him. When he raised his eyes, there was determination mixed with loyalty. "I won't let you down, Sam. No matter what, I'll be right there beside you all the way."

Al collected the dishes and told Sam to just relax in the living room. After cleaning up the dishes and putting things away, he came out to join his friend. Finding the TV on and Sam asleep, he pulled the cover off the back of the couch and laid it over him before channel surfing and finding a show he liked. The two, plus Comet who jumped up beside Sam, stayed like that through the evening. When Al was finally ready to go to bed himself, he roused Sam enough to move him back to his bedroom before retiring for the night. He was thankful there wasn't a repeat of Sam's nightmares.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

When Al called the next morning to get an appointment with Doctor Avery, Sam's physician, he learned that the office was closed until after Christmas. He couldn't really blame Doctor Avery for taking some time off. It was, after all, Christmas Eve and doctors needed family time too. He called the number he was given for the physician on call, a Doctor Levine, and explained Sam's symptoms and told him about the wound to his arm. The doctor offered to meet them at the ER just to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong.

After making the appointment, Al went in to wake Sam. With all of the sleep the younger man had been getting, he still fought being woken up. Finally, he did wake and, when told by Al that he had an appointment with the doctor in an hour, told him he didn't want to go as he tried to roll over and go back to sleep.

Al caught his arm and stopped him from rolling over as he pointed out Dr. Levine was taking the time to go to the ER for him and the least he could do was show the courtesy of actually meeting him there. Sam grumbled but, realizing he was the one that had suggested the trip the night before, even if it was inadvertent, got out of bed, threw on some clothes, ran a comb through his hair, and went with Al to the hospital.

They were fortunate that they didn't have long to wait when they arrived at the hospital. The exam was short but thorough. "You've got the flu. It's a nasty virus this year but there isn't much you can do besides ride it out," the doctor told Sam after the examination.

"I'm sorry to have called you in, then. I should have known."

"No. Better to check. In some of the patient's I've seen, this flu's set up conditions that are ripe for bronchitis to take hold. I can hear a little bit of wheezing in your lungs already so you're probably heading in that direction. We'll have to keep an eye on that. I'm also seeing some redness in your left ear. The altitude changes when you flew are the perfect set up for an ear infection." The doctor pushed away from the counter where he'd been writing and rolled the chair closer to Sam. "It's also good I got to see your arm. There's the beginning of an infection. That's probably due to your immune system being compromised by the flu. It's not too serious right now but you will need a round of antibiotics to clear it up and make sure it doesn't get worse."

Sam nodded although he wasn't happy with the diagnosis. It was a lot more than he'd been expecting. "Thanks for coming in last minute for this, Dr. Levine," he said as he reached out to accept the prescription handed to him.

"It's not a problem at all, Mr. Beckett. Dr. Avery and I are often on call for each other. He'll be back in his office on Wednesday. I suggest you call then and set up a follow up appointment with him to make sure the bronchitis hasn't progressed and also so he can keep a check on your arm. The sutures will also have to be removed. If you need anything before that, though, don't hesitate to call."

"I will." Thanking the doctor once more, Sam took the prescription and went back out to the waiting room. He held up the paper as he got closer to Al. "We need to stop by the pharmacy. Dr. Levine says I need antibiotics."

"So it's not just the flu," Al surmised.

"No. It is the flu," he didn't think it was worth mentioning the probability of bronchitis or an ear infection, at least not right now. He didn't see any sense in getting Al worked up unless it was necessary. "The antibiotics aren't for that. It's for my arm. It's getting infected."

Al's forehead creased. "Infected? You've been taking care of it..."

"I know, but the flu's sapping my body's ability to fight off anything else. Don't worry. It's nothing serious."

Al looked wary but accepted Sam's statement. "We can pick up a few other things on the way home too, then."

"You can do the picking up. I'll wait in the car and spare any last minute shoppers my germs."

"Yeah. I was thinking that. Since we've been gone almost a week, we do need a few things now like milk and bread. I'll go shopping later for the heavier stuff."

"If you don't mind, and I know it's going out of your way, would you mind dropping me off at home first?" Sam smiled apologetically. "I really don't think I'm up to much today."

"Ok. That works too. Your toast is going to be a bit mangled, though. I noticed some spots this morning. I can cut them off."

"Eww. No thanks. I can do without moldy bread. Was it like that already yesterday?"

"No. At least I didn't see anything. I did check."

"Maybe it was just me, then. Still, I really would rather just go home. If you're worried about me eating something, don't. I'll just eat some dry cereal. I'm not very hungry anyways."

"Why am I not surprised?" Al said as they got into the car. A short time later, they were home. Once inside, the older man pointed to Sam's room. "You get back in bed and I'll fix you some tea and bring you that cereal. You want anything else? There's a little juice in the fridge. I drank some and it was fine."

"I'm not getting back in bed. The couch is fine." Sam opened his bedroom door to go in and change into more comfortable clothes. Comet was sitting on the other side of the door waiting for him when it opened. When the cat 'meowed' at him indignantly, he told him, "Hey, I can't trust you not to try to climb the tree so don't give me that."

"Ok. Couch," Al agreed. Just as long as you're not doing anything that's going to give that flu a chance to morph."

"I'm just going to watch TV or read, that's it," Sam called from his room as he traded his jeans for a pair of sweatpants. "Maybe play with Comet a little so he doesn't feel ignored." He walked out of his bedroom with his wallet in his hand. He took out some money and handed it to Al. "Reminds me, can you get some cat treats and one of those catnip mice so I can put it in his stocking. I'd have gotten it before now but you know how he sniffs those things out."

"Yeah. Regular bloodhound." Al took the money and went back to the kitchen. He called out, "You want that juice?"

"I can take care of it," Sam said coming into the kitchen. "Making some tea isn't going to give me pneumonia and the sooner you get out, the sooner you'll be back. You know what the stores are going to be like today."

"I'm going to have to take a few minutes to write out a list anyways. I'm doing my linguine tonight and was thinking Cornish game hens for tomorrow. Nothing fancy but festive...and both of those should be light enough for you."

"You don't have to go through all that trouble, Al. Between the travelling and taking care of me, you haven't had any time to rest. Keep this up and I know what you'll be getting for Christmas and it won't be in your stocking."

"I told you on the plane...I don't catch your bugs. Besides, if I didn't take care of you, that would put me under more stress. I'm a great mother, remember?"

"You sure are," Sam said smiling as his words were brought back to him. "But there's always a first time for everything and I don't want this to be it."

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. You fix your tea while I write out the list...and then back to the couch. We're going to beat this bug back into submission."

"Aye aye." Sam dropped a teabag into a mug with some sugar then filled it with water before putting it in the microwave for two minutes. While the tea was heating up, he grabbed a nearly empty box of shredded wheat. Once the microwave beeped and he'd taken the teabag out of the mug, he went back to the living room. "Hey, what are you doing?" he asked when he saw where the cat was. He put the tea and cereal on the coffee table then scooped up Comet. "In a manger...not under a cat." He put Comet back down on the floor. "Behave or no Santa for you." As soon as he sat on the couch and picked up the tea and cereal, the cat was beside him purring.

Al came out of the kitchen with a list. "Ok...give me your prescription and I'll get all this stuff. I should be gone about an hour, hour and a half tops."

"I left it on the dresser in my room when I changed."

Sam started to lean forward to put the tea and cereal down to get up but Al stopped him. "I'll get it, Kid. Just enjoy your tea, watch some TV. I'll bring over your carryon so you'll have your book and stuff. Then you'll have everything you could possibly want in reach."

"Thanks, Al."

"Ok," Al said once he'd gotten the prescription and moved everything close that Sam would need. "You should be all set until I come back."

When Al came back from the store, he walked in with the first of his bags. Not seeing Sam on the couch, he called out for him. Hearing his voice from the basement, he put the bags down and went to the stairs. "What the hell are you doing down there, Kid?"

"We have a leak. I'm fixing it," Sam answered somewhat distracted.

"You could have waited until I got home." Al started down the stairs seeing Sam with plumber's tape and standing in a pool of water, his clothes wet from the leak. "Leave that. I'll finish it. Your antibiotics are in one of the bags on the dining room table. He shooed him up the stairs. "And do something about your feet."

"Fine. I didn't want to have to deal with a deluge on top of everything else. If I hadn't noticed the water pressure being off, who knows how long this would have gone on?"

"We'll talk about it later." Al didn't say anymore as he continued with Sam's repairs.

"We'll need to get a real plumber to fix this after Christmas." Sam let out a little sigh as he thought about how much that would cost. On top of that, they'd have to dry out the basement as well.

He watched Al for a few seconds then went upstairs and, going into the living room, stopped when he saw where Comet had taken up residence again. He picked up the cat and held him out so they were face to face. "What is it with you? Can't you find any place else to hang out. I know cats have a god complex but don't you think this is getting a little ridiculous?" The cat's only response was to bat playfully at Sam's nose. He was still in the living room with the cat when Al came up from the basement.

"Sam...you have the flu, you're wet and probably chilled...and you decide to play with the cat? I know your medical training tells you that's not the best idea."

"I'm not playing with the cat," Sam answered patiently as he put Comet down on the floor. He just keeps going places he shouldn't. He must think it Cometmas and not Christmas." He caught sight of the bags that had been left on the dining room table that had been knocked over with items coming out. "I'm going to guess you didn't leave those like that?" he asked pointing. "Maybe he was seeking asylum"

"He needs to be in an asylum. Crazy cat," Al replied going over to take care of the bags. He was putting everything back when he commented, "Where the hell are the cat treats?"

"Here," Sam said holding up the missing bag. "Apparently, in Comet's telling of the Christmas story, it was gold, frankincense and cat treats." He picked another object out the nativity that didn't belong. "Make that gold, catnip mice, and cat treats."

Al looked at Sam holding up the two items and started to laugh. "And you must be the shepherd boy that had nothing but a drum beat."

Sam looked at Al oddly for moment then joined in on the laughter. "Yeah, and you must be the angel."

"I ain't no angel, Sam," Al replied between chuckles.

Sam laughed even harder after Al's statement until his laughter turned to coughs. Immediately, Al left the table and moved over to Sam. "It's probably not good to laugh like that. You ok?" he asked rubbing the younger man's back with one hand while putting the other arm around him to make sure he didn't fall over.

"Yeah," Sam agreed once the cough tapered off. He straightened up, rubbing at his chest. "Didn't feel so good, though. I think I'm going to put on something dry and lie down on the couch for a while." His voice was much more subdued.

"Good idea. I'll take care of Comet."

"Uh huh." Sam went to his bedroom and exchanged the wet sweatpants, shirt, and socks for dry then went back out to the living room. He lay on the couch and pulled the blanket that was on the back around himself, shivering slightly. As soon as he was settled, Comet hopped up, curling in the small space by his chest. "Gonna keep watch on me?" he asked the cat.

The cat purred. Sam looked over to the nativity and smiled. There was a bubble of chickenwire covering it. "Great. You caged Jesus."

"Hey, it works. No more Cometmas around here." Al brought Sam's antibiotic over to him as well as a glass of water and the various cold medications he'd been taking as well as a thermometer. "You need to take this and I'm not sure what else you might want to take." He put the assortment of bottles and boxes on the coffee table along with the glass of water then felt his friend's forehead. "You might want the Tylenol, though, since you feel a little on the warm side. We should probably check what your temp is."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I'm a little sore too." He looked sheepish. "When I went down to the basement earlier, I didn't see the water on the floor. I sort of slipped," he confessed as he started to collect the various pills he needed to take.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Al asked concerned.

"Nah. Just my pride," Sam responded.

"Well that explains why you were so wet. I wondered. The leak didn't look that bad."

"No. It had just been going on awhile. Good thing we weren't using the plumbing this week. I think I soaked up a good deal of the puddle."

"Well...I have towels down there to soak up the mess and I wrapped the pipe so nothing's leaking now. I'll take care of the rest later." Since Sam had finished swallowing the medication and water, he held the thermometer out to him. With a sigh, the younger man took it.

While he waited for the time to elapse, Al neatened the coffee table, taking the empty mug from Sam's earlier cup of tea and the boxes and bottles of medications out to the kitchen. The thermometer beeped to signal it was done registering when he walked back into the room. "101.6," he said taking it from Sam and looking at the digital readout.

"At least it's not higher." Sam looked up as the sound of a favorite Christmas movie started on the TV. "_White Christmas_. I love this. I thought we might have missed the annual airing of it."

"Doesn't look like it. Listen, you get settled in, I'm going to get everything put away and then I'll join you."

When Al came back to the living room, Sam was lying with Comet curled close to him. He was absently rubbing the cat's back while watching the TV.

"You warm enough," Al asked before sitting.

"Mmmhmm," Sam answered. He briefly took his eyes off the TV. "I've got my private heater right here. He gave the cat a quick scratch between the ears earning a purr.

"Sometimes I think that's the only good thing about Comet...the fact that he keeps you so content."

"He's got more going for him than that."

"Like what?"

"You see any mice or anything like that around?" Sam challenged. "He's not just another pretty kitty, you know."

"Um...Sam...you know you can't prove a negative. Just because there are no mice doesn't mean that Comet has protected us from them. Neither of us had mice in DC and we didn't have them in Albuquerque before we got Comet."

"Doesn't mean he's not responsible either." Sam scratched the cat's head again. "He's a good cat and you'd miss him if he weren't around." He looked at his friend in challenge. "Don't deny it. You're as attached to him as I am."

"Ok. He's a good cat for the most part," Al admitted grudgingly. "I still don't like that he gets into every single nook and cranny in the house on a regular basis. It's just not...sanitary."

"You make it sound like he's sitting on your food before you eat it," Sam laughed. "He's just curious."

As if he knew he was being talked about, Comet looked at Al indignantly then settled closer to Sam with his paws under his chin. He yawned once then closed his eyes for a cat nap.

"Don't look at me like that, Comet," Al said to the cat as it glared at him. "You've done that a few times...when you've gotten into the fridge." He looked at Sam. "Scared me half to death when he jumped out."

"Well, what would you do if you were closed in a cold, dark box...and the food is wrapped in the fridge. You should know that you have to make sure he's not in there before you shut the..." the rest of what Sam was going to say was cut off by a sneeze.

"You sure those meds are working? Maybe you're developing a resistance to them," Al asked at the sudden sneeze.

Sam took a tissue from the box on the coffee table, disturbing Comet who jumped to the floor and wandered off. "It's just a sneeze. I bet there's a whole lot more of them before I get over this."

"I guess. I just don't like you being sick," Al said. He watched the cat walk across the living room toward the tree, tail held high. "Don't you dare get in those branches."

"Like that's really going to convince him," Sam said with an eye roll. He got up from the couch and walked over to the cat, picking him up. "You need to stay out of trouble, at least for today." He came back to the couch and lay down again, putting the cat beside him. Comet gave one look to the tree then settled by his master again.

By the time the end credits of the movie started to roll up the screen, Sam had dropped off into a light sleep along with the cat.

For the rest of the afternoon, Al took care of various household activities. Having been gone for as long as they had, he felt he should put everything ship shape again.

Sam spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing on the couch. He napped on and off and, when awake either watched TV or read. Comet stayed close by. Whether it was because he'd missed Sam the last week or because he sensed he was ill was anyone's guess.

When it was close to dinnertime, Al went into the kitchen to make his linguine. It had become a Christmas Eve tradition. As he opened the can of clams, Comet decided to see what was going on and went into the kitchen. "Scat!" Al told the cat as it got closer to the opened can. "I've got your cat food over there. This is for Sam's and my dinner."

Sam came into the kitchen rubbing his eyes. "Did you call me?" he asked. As he walked by the phone, it rang and he picked it up. As the caller identified himself, his face morphed into one of anger although he kept his tone civil. "I'm sorry I didn't call, Mr. Requin. I've been ill most of the day." There was a pause as the other man spoke. "I have made my decision. Admiral Calavicci stays on my project...and we won't need the funding, although I do appreciate the offer." There was another pause then Sam spoke again. "No. My mind's made up and I don't plan on changing it. Oh, when you speak with Professor LoNigro again, give him a message for me. Tell him it didn't work and I'm not the naive farm boy he still thinks I am...and have a merry Christmas." Without waiting for the man to say anything else, he hung up the phone. "I guess that's that," he said blowing out a breath.

Al had stopped his cooking, listening and watching Sam as he made his future with the Millennium Group clear. "Yeah. I'd say that bridge was definitely burned...not that I think it's a bad idea in this case."

"I think he choked on his tongue when I said 'no'...or at least that's what it sounded like." Sam pushed away from the phone and closer to the counter where Al was doing his dinner preparations. "Feels like a weight just came off of me. I guess you were right, I wasn't cut out for that."

"It's not me being right or wrong, Kid. You came to your senses both times. Took a bit but you know you're not a shark. There's too much good in you to be able to push that aside and decide to be a horse's ass just to get what you want."

"Shark," Sam said with a little laugh that grew. "Oh, I should have known right from the start." He laughed harder.

"Huh?" Al asked, confused at the other man's sudden emersion in laughter. "I don't get it."

Sam wiped laughter-induced tears from his eyes and tried to stop laughing, although a few chuckles escaped. "Requin. Do you know what that means?"

"It's French, isn't it?"

"Uh huh. It's French all right and it means shark." The laughter started up again with an occasional cough. "I should have known from the start," Sam forced out between the laughter and coughs.

Al started to laugh too. "Yeah. I guess he decided that he needed to live up to his name."

"Maurice the Shark," Sam said amid more laughter. "Kinda like Charlie the Tuna except he'll take your hand off."

Drawn by the sound of the laughter, Comet came over and looked up at Sam who bent down to pick him up. "You've got more integrity in your paw than that shark has in his whole body," he told the cat.

Al picked out a small piece of clam with the fork. "Yeah. Here you go, Comet. That's for being a good cat...and not a shark."

Comet happily took the clam that was offered to him. Wanting more, he tried to wriggle out of Sam's arms but was held tight. "No more for you or he's gonna start calling you fat cat again." Sam looked up at Al. "If you don't need us for anything, I'll take him in my room with me. I've got a few things I need to do in there."

"Nah. Dinner will be ready in about a half hour though."

Nodding, Sam headed out with Comet, talking to the cat loud enough that he knew Al would hear. "See, he really does love you even if he acts grumpy sometimes."

Al chuckled at the parting shot and continued his duties as chef.

Sam went into his room and put Comet on his unmade bed. "I need to finish wrapping Al's Christmas gifts and you need to stay out of trouble. Understand?" He rolled his eyes at himself realizing that he may as well talk to the wall.

Comet stayed on the bed long enough to watch Sam pull out boxes, rolls of wrapping paper, scissors and tape and sit on the floor and start wrapping. He jumped off the bed to inspect what was happening. Used to the cat's eternal curiosity, Sam allowed him to nose around what he was doing, pulling the scissors and tape out of harm's way. When he got in the way, he'd give him a little shove off to the side.

It didn't take long for Sam to finish wrapping the gifts and they were soon in a small pile beside him with Comet sniffing at them. "There's nothing you'd like in there," he told the cat then took one of the scraps of paper, balled it up, and threw it across the room, laughing as Comet chased it. For the next ten minutes, he kept balling up scraps of paper and throwing them for the cat to chase until they both tired of the game. "C'mon," he said scooping the cat up. "Let's go see what the great chef is up to." It was only when he realized that he couldn't carry both cat and gifts that he put Comet down.

On his way to the kitchen, he put the pile of gifts down under the tree, adjusting them until it was to his liking. As he turned around, he started laughing when he looked across the room. Comet had made himself comfortable on the chicken wire bubble over the nativity. "Al's right. You are a crazy cat."

"What's so funny?" Al asked as he came in from the living room. He'd heard Sam laughter in the kitchen. The kid had been doing a lot of laughing today, not that he'd complain. After the last couple of days, he didn't think it was a sound he'd be hearing again anytime soon.

"Oh, just playing with Comet. He's in rare form today."

"Yeah. Barrel of fun." Als words were that of a curmudgeon but the hint of his smile showed he actually appreciated the cat's antics. "Hey, if you want to wash up, dinner will be on the table in five."

"We'll be right there." After taking Comet from the chicken wire, Sam went into the bathroom to wash up for dinner.

When he came back to the table, he was amazed by the transformation. Al had set out a red tablecloth with plates, silver ware, and two wine glasses with chilled ginger ale. A bowl with some of the Christmas ornaments he hadn't put on the tree acted as the centerpiece. A large bowl with the pasta and sauce and a basket with bread sat on the table as well. "Joyous Christmas Eve," Al stated before sitting down at his place.

"The same to you," Sam replied as he sat. "This looks nice."

"Thanks. Thought we could have something a little nicer than usual."

"This definitely is." Sam picked up the bowl with the linguine and put some in his plate then passed it over to Al. "I'd say it smells good but, since I can't smell much of anything right now, I'll say it look good instead."

"I put a little extra garlic in it tonight so you might be able to taste something. Besides, I read somewhere that garlic was good for colds and flus and your immune system. Thought it might give you a little boost in that department."

Sam nodded. "That's what some research points too. Makes sense, it's been used for centuries. The Egyptians used it for both food and medicine." He took a bite. "I think I can detect it."

Al smiled. "I'm glad. I know how much you hate it when you can't taste anything."

The two men continued their meal and general conversation. Al couldn't help smiling at the ease their friendship had revived after the hurts of the past few days, which was not to say the hurts weren't real or entirely forgotten. However, the bridge had been build and, it appeared, might even be stronger for what they went through. Al just hoped that Sam's Mr. Hyde never appeared again.

The rest of the night was quiet, mostly spent in companionable silence, reading and watching the antics of the cat. When they turned in a few hours later, both were looking forward to the next morning.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Christmas day dawned cold and clear. It didn't surprise Al that he was the first one up. The fever Sam had been carrying had gone up shortly after he'd gone to bed and had resulted in the younger man not having a good night. Al didn't think Sam slipped into a restful sleep until after four a.m.

Al had been up and down the stairs a few times with the younger man during the night trying to make him as comfortable as possible so that he could sleep. He'd almost been tempted to bundle his friend in the car and drive him to the ER sure that Dr. Levine had missed something and that it wasn't just the flu. It was only when the fever started to go down and Sam slipped into a deep sleep that he relented on that idea.

The whole night, Comet had been reluctant to leave his master's side as if he sensed something was wrong. If he wasn't pacing by the bed, he was curled up close to Sam. One time, he'd even gone upstairs to Al's room as if to fetch the older man.

As he walked by Sam's room, Al pushed open the door to check on his friend. He saw the younger man sprawled bonelessly across the bed.

At the opening of the door, Comet's head came up to see what the noise was as Al quietly approached the bed. First, he brushed his hand over Sam's forehead and was pleased to find it cooler than it had been during the night. Then, he scratched the cat between the ears. "You're doing a good job taking care of him."

"Al?" Sam questioned hearing the soft voice. His eyes slowly opened and he lifted his head to see his friend.

"Merry Christmas, Kid," Al greeted seeing his friend's eyes open and hearing his soft voice. "How you doing?"

"Tired," Sam answered letting his head fall back to the pillow. "So darned tired."

Al sat on the side of the bed and again brushed his hand over Sam's forehead. "You've only had about five hours sleep. It's no wonder you're tired. You're cooler than you were last night, though."

"Don't feel as achy," Sam supplied. "Just really tired."

Al got up and started smoothing the blanket over Sam and tucking him in. "Then close your eyes and get more sleep. There's nothing you have to do today but rest and get better." When Comet made a soft purr, Al added, "See, even Comet agrees with me."

"But it's Christmas morning," Sam tried to argue.

"Yeah, so? It'll still be Christmas when you get up. Right now, just close your eyes and go back to sleep. It's not often you sleep in."

"Ok," Sam agreed as he smuggled into the blankets that had been pulled over him. "Just for a little while, though." He was asleep almost as soon as he finished talking.

"As long as you need, Kid," Al said softly as he watched his friend sleep. He gave another pat to the cat. "You keep an eye on him for me," he told Comet then left the room, leaving the door ajar so he could hear if Sam needed anything and to allow Comet to leave the room if he wanted.

As much as he didn't want Sam to be ill, Al had to admit it made it easier to slip a couple of extra presents under the tree. He'd meant to do it during the night but with the up and down, had simply forgotten. Now, he was able to rearrange some of the gifts, a little surprised by some he hadn't noticed before although he hadn't really been checking. He hoped Sam had put them out the night before prior to going to sleep but one could never be sure with the kid.

He went into the kitchen, made coffee, and heated up one of the bagels he bought the day before. After slathering it with cream cheese, he took the coffee and bagel to the table before going to the front door to retrieve the morning paper. With everything he needed, he went back to the table to read and enjoy his quiet morning, keeping an ear on alert listening for Sam.

It was about an hour into his quiet time when the phone rang. Getting up quickly so the ringer wouldn't sound more than once, Al answered the phone. "Good morning."

"Merry Christmas, Albert. I hope I'm not disturbing you but I was hoping to speak with Sam."

"Merry Christmas to you, Mrs. Beckett. No, you're not disturbing me but Sam's still sleeping."

"Still?" Thelma questioned. "It's got to be after ten in New Mexico. Is something wrong?" she asked, worry in her voice. "Is he sick?"

"He's got the flu, ma'am. You know Sam; he picks it up every year. It's nothing to worry about though. I think it's on the down swing. He just didn't get as much sleep as he needed last night and I told him to sleep in."

"Oh dear. What a terrible time for him to get sick. Has he seen a doctor?"

"Yes ma'am. Yesterday." He decided not to tell her about the arm or the intercepted purse snatcher. It wouldn't do her any good to hear it at that point. He doubted the infection would worsen with the antibiotics that Sam was now taking and she would never need to worry about him. One of them worrying was enough. "Dr. Levine told him he'd just need to ride it out."

"You'll make sure he's doing everything he's supposed to, I trust. I know sometimes he's not very good at following doctor's orders."

"Isn't that the truth," Al stated with a smile. "I made him some chicken soup the other day and we've been eating light, but he's eating and drinking fluids. He's also taking some over the counter meds for the symptoms."

"I used to use Vick's rub on him when he was growing up. He hates the smell of it but it always helps him. You might want to try some of that." Thelma let out a little sigh wishing she could be with her son. "How did his seminar go in New York last week? I hope that, at least, went well for him."

"You also used to check his temperature with a kiss to the forehead but I'm not going there," Al pointed out. "Sam's ok without the Vick's. He's taking Nyquil and that's taking care of the stuffiness." He paused to switch gears. "The seminar was well received. He even met with one of the scientists that he wants to bring on once we get started with the project."

"That's wonderful. I know he was nervous about speaking last week." She let out a little laugh. "I suppose he told you I used to kiss him on the forehead. Did he threaten to kick or slug you if you tried that?"

"He did. How would you know that?" Al asked, curious to her hitting that particular threat on the head.

"I know my son, Albert. My son will tolerate some things from me but no one else. I also know what threats he used to use on his brother."

Al laughed. "I'd imagine Tom didn't give it a try either. You had quite a brood, that's for sure."

"You'd be wrong, Albert," Thelma said with a light laugh. "Sam was Tom's little brother and although he wouldn't tolerate anyone doing anything that might hurt Sam, that didn't mean he wasn't going to torture him." She turned serious as she continued. "We're going to be leaving to go over to Jim's parents in a little while and we'll probably be back late. You tell Sam that I don't expect him to call me today. He's to rest and do as he's told so he can get better. And, if you're willing to risk a slug or a kick from him, give him a hug and kiss from me."

"Hug yeah, kiss, we'll see." He wasn't going to do anything that could reopen any wounds at the moment. "I'll tell him but I know he'll be sad he missed you on Christmas."

"The most important thing is for him to get better. We'll talk tomorrow. Have a very merry Christmas, Albert."

"You too as well, Mrs. Beckett. And send my love to Katie and Jim."

"I will."

Al heard the click on the other end. He knew Sam wouldn't be happy he hadn't woken him up but Thelma was right. He needed to get better. Al had been through too many of these flus and although he really didn't think things would get worse, with Sam you never knew. He retrieved another mug of coffee from the kitchen and went outside to have a cigar. He hadn't had much time for them on their recent trip and the times he'd been able to sneak one in, there had been some stress between them and he hadn't been able to enjoy the vice near as much as he did now.

When Sam next woke up, although he didn't feel great he didn't feel quite as tired as he had the last time. He got up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom, Comet close at his heels. "I don't need your help," he told the cat as he closed the bathroom door.

When he came out a few minutes later, the cat was sitting in the same spot waiting for him. "Let me guess, you've given up the God complex and now you have a Florence Nightingale one instead. Well, c'mon."

He made his way out to the living room. Looking around he didn't see Al there nor in the dining room or kitchen. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and went over to the patio doors, slipping around the tree. Al was out there smoking a cigar. He knew better than to go outside and, instead, knocked on the glass to get his friend's attention.

Al heard the knock and turned around. He saw Sam and gave him a wave. Taking a last draw on the cigar, he extinguished it and went inside. "Good morning and Merry Christmas, Sam."

"Merry Christmas, to you," Sam responded. "Is it even still morning?"

"Barely. It's eleven forty-five."

"Wow. I really did sleep the whole morning." Sam moved over to the couch and sat. As soon as he did Comet, who'd been following his every step, jumped up next to him. "Did the phone ring earlier?" Sam asked as he started to scratch Comet's head without thinking.

"Yeah. Your mother called about an hour and half ago. She told me to let you sleep."

"I missed Mom?" Sam started to get up. "Maybe I can catch her before they leave."

"You can try but I think they might be on the way to Jim's parent's house. She wished you a Merry Christmas and said not to worry about calling her today. Tomorrow would be fine."

"Darn," Sam said settling back on the couch. "You should have woken me up."

"And risk the wrath of your mother? No thank you. She said let you sleep so I did." He moved over to Sam. "She said to give you a hug from her," he told Sam following through. "She also told me to give you a kiss from her but I think that can be conveyed verbally."

"Afraid I'll slug you if you do?" Sam asked with a small laugh.

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Since its Christmas, I guess I'll cut you a break...but only today."

Al looked slight askance at Sam but dutifully gave him a kiss on the cheek. "That's from your mother."

When Al pecked him on the cheek, Sam looked up at him in surprise. "I was just kidding, you know."

"Hey, the kiss was from your mother, not me. I'm just the messenger. You have a problem with it, slug her. Sheesh!"

"I'm not going to slug anyone. You just surprised me, that's all. You're not exactly the mushy type you know."

"Well, like I said, it's from your mother."

"Ok." Sam was quiet for a few seconds. "Don't do it again. That was too weird."

"You're telling me?" Before Sam could say anything, Al quickly asked, "You want some breakfast...or brunch, rather."

"I could eat." Sam pushed Comet aside so he could get up and make something to eat. As he did, Al tried to push him back down to the couch. "I don't need you to wait on me," he groused.

"And I'd rather you just take it easy and let's not repeat last night." Al crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down where he his friend was sitting. "It's my way or the highway on this one, Kid. Now, tell me what you want and I'll bring it in to you."

"You're serious?" Sam questioned. Seeing the no-nonsense look on his friend's face he stated, "You really are. Fine. Some hot cereal and tea but after today, I can take care of myself."

"We'll see," Al answered as he moved away from the couch.

Sam waited until his friend was almost to the kitchen before picking up the cat so they were face to face. "He's really just a big ol' softy no matter how much he tries to hide it," he told the cat.

"I heard that...you're not getting off that easy." Al stated gruffly without turning around. What Sam couldn't see was the grin on his face as he said it.

He went into the kitchen and pulled down a box of Cream of Wheat and read the back of the box. As he made the cereal, he put the tea into the microwave. Five minutes later, everything was ready and he brought it all out to the table. "Ok. Breakfast."

Sam got up from the couch and went over to the table putting Comet on the floor. When the cat jumped up, Sam put him back. "I told you the other night was a one-time thing." The cat just sat and meowed.

"Oh leave Sam alone, Comet. He'll play with you later."

As the cat slunk off in the direction of the spare bedroom, Sam let out a huff of laughter. "I think you hurt his feelings."

"He'll get over it," Al grumbled. "You need to eat up, though. You haven't had much the past couple of days and you need to keep your strength up."

"Yes, Mom," Sam answered with a roll of his eyes then started eating his late breakfast. Once he was done, he pushed the bowl and mug away and looked at Al eagerly. "So, time to open the presents?"

As Al picked up the bowl and mug to take to the kitchen, he chuckled. "Anyone heard you; they'd think you were seven instead of thirty-seven."

"Hey, I just enjoy Christmas. There's nothing wrong with that. And don't tell me you don't get a thrill out of opening presents either. I've seen you the last few years and I know you enjoy it just as much.

"Ok Kid. You win. Yes, it's time to open presents. I guess I should be thankful you ate first and didn't just start pulling things out from under the tree as soon as you woke up."

"I haven't done that since...well...since I was seven."

"Uh huh. Then you've provided a good performance of it a few times. I should have known you were just providing me with a childhood reenactment." He nodded to the dishes in his hand. "Let me just put these in the sink to soak and I'll be right out."

Having done as he'd indicated, Al came back out and found Sam waiting patiently on the floor by the tree in the living room. A present for each man from Sam's mother was sitting on the floor in front of where each would sit. "I figure one from Mom is a safe one."

Shaking his head, the older man laughed lightly. "Logical and correct. There are a couple from me I want you to open one before the other."

"Order? Now there's an order to the gifts? Ever hear of spontaneous, Al?"

"Yeah...you know, sometimes you open something and it gives a hint to something else you're getting. Like a couple of years ago when I gave you that lens case and gave you the telephoto lens? You needed to open the lens first."

"So, you got me another camera lens?"

"No...I just said it was like that."

"Oh. Ok." Sam picked up the gift from his mother. "Well, let's see what Mom sent." He ripped the paper off with the enthusiasm of the seven year old Al had accused him of being. The noise caught Comet's attention and he came over to investigate.

Before opening the box, Sam crumpled some of the paper in a ball and tossed it across the room to keep the cat occupied and out of trouble. Once Comet was otherwise occupied chasing the paper, he opened the box and pushed back the tissue paper. "Oh wow," he said taking the sweater from the box and shaking it out. "She must have spent forever knitting this." He pointed to the box in front of Al. "So, you going to open it?"

"Your Mom always does nice sweaters for you." Picking up the present, Al shook it slightly, slowing down the process knowing it would be a small tweak at his friend. "Hummm...what could it be. Sounds maybe like a scarf or maybe a shirt or maybe..."

"Just open it, already," Sam said as eager to see his friend's gift as he'd been to see his. He punctuated the request with a small cough. "And don't start," he added seeing the mother hen in Al gearing up.

Al let out a sigh. "Ok, ok." He ripped the paper off and opened the box. There was a somewhat garish Hawaiian shirt inside. "Oh wow! This is great!"

Sam gave a long look to the shirt. "I wonder if Mom needs new glasses. That's...uh...really bright."

"Isn't it," Al said holding it up to his chest to check the size. "I think her eyesight's fine."

"I'm just glad she didn't mix us up." Sam spied the cat watching across the room. "I think someone else likes the bright colors, too." He reached under the tree and pulled out a smaller gift. "Maybe there's something here that'll keep him occupied," he said as the cat came over to them. "Hey, look, Comet. Mom sent you something." He ripped the paper off revealing two cat toys - soft balls with feathers attached. They immediately got the cat's attention and Sam threw one across the room. Comet chased after it batting it from side to side once he caught it. "That should keep him amused for a while."

"Until his curiosity gets the better of him." Al got up and went to the tree, pulling out a couple of boxes. He brought them over. "Open the bigger one first."

Sam accepted the two boxes. He put the smaller one aside and pulled the paper off the larger one. When he saw what it was, he started to laugh and pointed to one of the gifts that was still under the tree. "I think you better open that one."

The older man's eyebrows rose slightly but he went and got the gift, opening it as well. He laughed. "Well at least we won't get them mixed up. I've got a black Daytimer and you've got a brown one."

Sam picked up the smaller gift. "I'm going to assume this is the calendar. I didn't think to wrap it separately for you." He unwrapped the smaller gift and put it, and the Daytime from Al on his lap then pointed to the one his friend held. "Flip to the back. I had something put there."

Doing as Sam asked, Al read the inscription. "Nothing but heaven itself is better than a friend who is really a friend...Plautus." Al looked over to Sam, his voice tight with emotion. "Thank you."

"I mean it, Al. Especially after everything the last few days."

Al looked at the inscription again, more to move his head so that Sam wouldn't see his eyes filling. He may have become more comfortable with emotional displays since meeting him but crying wasn't one of the more easy to show. "Yeah. I know you mean it, Kid. That's why it's so important to me. You know I feel the same way." His hand brushed close to his temple but his pinkie was used to brush away the tear that was frustratingly escaping his eye.

Sam knew Al was trying to hide his emotions. Normally, he'd let him but this time was different. He reached over and grabbed the hand Al had brushed against his face and gave it a squeeze. "I know, Al and its ok."

Lifting his head to look Sam in the eyes at the squeeze, the emotion in Al's eyes was raw. "Please let's never let something like that happen again."

"Not if I can help it," Sam assured as he brushed at his eyes too. He let out a snort of laughter. "Look at us. It's Christmas and we're carrying on like we're at our best friend's funeral or something."

"No...not a funeral, thankfully," Al answered with the beginning of a smile. He squeezed Sam's hand back before pulling it away.

"Like the Phoenix reborn in fire," Sam agreed. He patted his friend on the shoulder once then sat back from him. "I think there's more presents under there we need to get to...and if we do this after every one, it's going to take all day." He glanced over to where Comet was still being entertained by the feathered ball. "I'm not sure he'll stay over there much longer."

"You got any more surprises like this?" Al said, nodding to the inscription. "Cause if you do, I'm not sure I'm going to able to accommodate you." The honesty about his feelings was something that the older man seldom provided so directly, but he felt it was important.

Sam eyed the gifts still under the tree. "I think you'll be ok...unless you've got any surprises under there for me."

Al shrugged slightly, "Wouldn't be a surprise if I told you," he stated, his words hinting there might be something.

"Oh great," Sam said with a theatrical groan. "Maybe I should have brought the box of tissues over." He sneezed twice and looked chagrined. "I guess I really should have," he said as he got up to get the tissues. Once he'd taken care of the sneezing, he settled back on the floor. "Ok. Do your worst," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Al went over and picked out Sam's present from Katie. "Not yet. Like a roller coaster, I need some distance between the highs and lows."

"Oh, great, keep me in suspense," Sam said as he accepted the gift from his sister and her husband. He pulled the wrapping off the slender gift box and opened it up. "Hey, it's a gift certificate to Tia Lupes. That's my favorite. How'd she know to get it...and how'd she get it in Hawaii." He looked over at his friend. "Hmmm...methinks I smell an elf."

"I showered," Al responded, drily.

"Ha ha. Don't give up your day job to be a comic."

"Not planning on it. Being around you gives me too much material."

"You know, I try." Sam reached under the tree for another gift and pulled it closer so he could read the tag on it. "Let's see, this one says," he looked up at his friend, eyebrows raised, "To Comet from Al. From Al? I knew you were an old softy."

"I couldn't exactly ignore him, Sam. He is a resident of the house."

"Yeah, yeah. You really do love him, admit it."

"As cat's go, he's not that bad. That good enough for you?"

Sam shook his head. "Denial ain't just a river in Egypt, Pal." Before Al could say anything else, he called Comet over. "Hey, come see what Uncle Al got 'cha."

"Uncle Al?" Al questioned.

"Yeah, Uncle Al. I've raised him to be polite," Sam kidded. Unwrapping the gift, he found a laser pointer. Holding it up so the older man could see, he quipped. "I don't think Comet's going to do any Power Point presentations."

Al leaned over and took the pointer. "I'm just trying to bring him into the modern age." He turned it on; a little red dot appeared in front of Comet, which he wiggled. The cat pounced on it and it moved away. "See, you can have fun with him with nothing more than the flick of your thumb."

Sam leaned over to take the laser pointer back. He aimed it a little further in front of Comet and, after stalking it, the cat again pounced on it. "Hey, this is great. I can keep him entertained without having to get off the couch."

"Yeah, great, isn't it? Comet starts going somewhere we don't want him to go and we use that to move him away. Win-win in my book."

"So, not just a toy but a behavioral modification tool, as well." Sam switched the laser pointer on and off a few times and watched as the cat looked for it. "Good idea." He turned to look at the gifts still under the tree. "So, what's next?"

For a while, there was opening of various gifts, including exchanges between them that were nice but mundane. Al gave Sam a set of gloves; Sam gave Al a wheel cover and the like. When there was one gift left, it was a small box. Al looked somewhat hesitant to give it to Sam. "I'm...um...not sure if this is...well..." He sighed. "Anyways, open it and you decide."

Sam accepted the gift held out to him. "It's not going to explode or anything, is it?" he joked as he started to take the wrapping off of it. There was something in Al's demeanor that clued him in that the gift meant a lot to his friend and that he was unsure how it would be taken. He slowed down his unwrapping, carefully peeling off the tape and folding the paper back.

Inside the box was a laminated object, slightly smaller than a wallet photo. Protected was a picture of the hospital bracelet that Al had shown him. Sam picked it up and turned it over. On the other side was a picture that Sam had taken of the two of them during the previous week, shrunken and cropped to fit the lamination. Over the bottom of the picture were the words, "Silver to Gold."

Al shifted slightly as Sam looked at it, not sure if his created gift was up to par. "I made one for myself, too," he stated offhandedly almost as if the words would buffer him if Sam didn't see this the way he did.

Sam cradled the photo in his hand as if it were made of blown glass. He looked up at his friend and down to the gift a few times unable to form the words he wanted. "Thank you," he finally whispered as his finger brushed over the photo of Al and him with the Rockefeller Center tree in the background.

Hearing Sam's gratitude expressed brought a nervous smile to Al's lips, his own heart relieved that the handmade gift was acceptable. "I..." He coughed away the gruffness in his voice. "I'm glad you like it, Kid."

"No, I don't like it," Sam answered seriously. "Like isn't a strong enough word. This means so much to me but...when? When did you have the time to put it together...and get the film developed?"

"You have been sick the last few days. Gave me some time to put things in motion. When I told Marlene...you know, she works at the drug store...my idea, she said she'd help me to push the film through faster."

"I'll have to thank her." Sam sat looking at the two photos, flipping the laminated card back and forth, at a loss for words. This time, it was his turn to brush at his eyes.

"I guess we both wanted to say how we felt in our own ways."

"I guess so. I just...forgive me for not understanding, maybe it's 'cause I've been sick but what does the silver and gold mean?"

"There was a song I remember from the orphanage. Sort of sappy but...it says a lot." His eyes gazed back, "Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold."

"Oh," Sam said in a small voice. "Um...I'll be right back." He climbed to his feet and made his way quickly to the bathroom. He always chided Al on not wanting to get too mushy or hiding his emotions but this time, he was the one having trouble. It felt as if the last week truly had been a whirlwind. It was just a few days ago that he thought he'd thrown away the dearest friendship he'd ever had or would have but now he knew how solid it really was. Solid as the gold Al talked about.

He wiped his eyes and splashed some water on his face then opened the door and went back to the living room. "Um...sorry about that."

"Feeling ill?" Al asked. It wouldn't be the first time that illnesses that Sam caught caused him to leave the room quickly. "Maybe some tea would settle your stomach."

"No, it's not that." Sam quirked a small smile. "I guess I didn't want you to know I took a trip to Mushville."

The older man raised his eyebrows. "You? I thought you had a permanent pass to the place."

"Maybe, but I know you're not always happy when I bring along a guest. I thought I'd spare you that. If you really want to go..."

Al looked at Sam, torn by the situation. On the one hand, Al was somewhat worried about the depth of his feelings of friendship for this man. One the other, this morning had felt like a watershed and things were on the right track, which certainly deserved a hug. Finally he reached over and gave Sam a hug with a "what the hell, it's Christmas."

Sam heartily returned the hug. "Maybe we should both get season passes," he joked. As both men stepped back from the hug, he laughed, "Just so you know, I am not going to be declaring my undying love for you now or anytime in the future."

"No...that would be too weird," Al responded. Now that the moment was past, he was busy rebuilding his composure. "But I've said it before Sam, if I'd had a son, I would have wanted him to be like you. Your father was a lucky man."

"I'm a lucky man," Sam contradicted. "I had Dad and now I've got you." He looked down thinking. "Sometimes, I think LoNigro thought he could take Dad's place. He never could...no one ever could. But, if there's one man on this entire planet who can come close to filling that place," he looked his friend squarely in the eye, "it's you and no one else. I think Dad would have liked you."

"That's high praise," Al stated with a smile. His next statement showed he was pulling back further from the moment. He needed off the roller coaster. "Now, it's been a few hours...you getting hungry at all?"

"I could eat," Sam stated. "I think I'm actually starting to feel better. And just for the record, when you kissed me this morning? That was weird. Either of us starts declaring undying love and that's...well...that's whatever comes after weird 'cause you are so not my type."

"Good. Feeling's mutual," Al said as he started for the kitchen. "And next time your mother asks me to 'give him this from me,' we're going back to verbal."

"No we won't," Sam stated knowingly. "I know you and you respect Mom too much not to do what she asks you to do. Besides, she'd know if you were bending the truth. She's got some special trick for that."

"We'll see," Al stated non-committedly as he went into the kitchen.

"Sure we will." Sam followed Al into the kitchen. "I can help get dinner together," he said followed by a soft cough.

"How about if you just go in the other room and relax. You might say you're feeling better but that cough tells me different."

"Oh, c'mon, Al. You know a bronchitis cough can hang around for a while. I can't sit on my butt and do nothing for the next couple of weeks." Sam started to pull out what he'd need to make mashed potatoes.

"Wait a minute," Al said stopping in middle of taking the Cornish hens out of the refrigerator. "I don't remember you saying anything about bronchitis yesterday."

"Welll..." Sam squirmed realizing he'd let the proverbial cat out of the bag. "Dr. Levine said he could hear some wheezing in my lungs and that there's been a lot of bronchitis with this particular flu. I just need to make an appointment with Dr. Avery tomorrow." He thunked the pot for the potatoes down on the counter. "I'm fine, though. I don't have a fever and I feel good so let's not spend the rest of the day treating me like I'm blown glass."

Al stopped Sam in his kitchen activities with a hand to the shoulder. "You know that's not what I'm trying to do, Sam. I've already lost someone to an illness that shouldn't have gotten out of control but did. I just don't want to start down a path, as unlikely as it might be, to repeat that. You know how these things morph in you...you've got to understand how much that worries me."

Sam was about to argue when he looked into Al's eyes and saw something deep in them. A pain that was still carried by the older man but wasn't permitted to come to the surface. He blinked a moment to couch his words in a format that wouldn't hurt his friend. "That's not going to happen, Al. I promise, first sign that I really am getting worse than the flu with a chance of bronchitis...and Dr. Levine did say chance, not that I have a full blown case of bronchitis...I'll let you pack me off to my room with all the bells and whistles of a quarantine. Right now, though, please let me help."

Looking at Sam's lightly pleading face, Al nodded his head. "Ok, Kid. As long as you sit down at the kitchen table and peel vegetables, I guess that wouldn't put too much stress on your system. But if anything starts morphing..."

"I'll let you know, Mum. Gotta call you Mum so I don't get you confused with Mom," Sam said with a laugh.

"You goofball," Al responded also laughing. "Ok. KP duty for you."

"No, not just KP duty. I can do more than sit and peel vegetables. Besides, you know my mashed potatoes are ten times better than yours...or at least that's what you always tell me."

"They are. Mine always get those little lumps in them."

"That's because you don't mash them enough and you always skimp on the milk and butter."

"Yeah...that's what you always tell me. Ok...vegetables and mashed potatoes."

"And the dishes. If you're doing the majority of the cooking, I'll do the dishes."

"Only if you let me dry," the older man said figuring that would cut down the worked Sam would need to do.

"I was thinking of letting the dishwasher do that but if you really want to..."

"With your grandmother's china? I thought you didn't ever want to put those in the dishwasher."

"You're right but I guess you forgot that I gave it to Katie 'cause Donna didn't..." he trailed off, looking down. "She didn't like it."

"Obviously her poor taste showing again," Al grumbled slightly.

"She wanted to pick out her own pattern," Sam responded with a shrug. He took out the bag of potatoes and put it on the counter with a little more force than necessary. "Whatever. It's done now."

Al thought but didn't say 'good riddance,' not wanting to upset his friend more. "Yeah. Women are like that." He opened one of the cabinet's in the kitchen. "But if that's not your grandmother's china, who's is it?" he questioned pointing to a set of dishes from some decade early in the century.

Sam took out one of the dishes and looked at then shrugged. "You got me. I've never seen this before in my life." He put the dish back in the cabinet. "Maybe it was there when we bought the house. It's not like we go in the cabinet very often."

"I guess. Nice dishes though. I guess by default it's our set."

"I guess." Sam closed the cabinet door. "I don't think I'd like to use it for Christmas dinner, though. Seems kind of...odd."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It just is. Kinda like using someone else's toothbrush." Sam opened the cabinet the dishes they normally used were in and started to pull plates out to put on the dining room table. "Nothing wrong with these." The plates were a mismatched set of the dishes he'd had after Donna left and what Al had in his apartment. "Food tastes the same no matter what the china pattern is and it's the company that makes a meal special."

"Can't argue with you there." He looked at the pile of potatoes on the table. "Course, if you don't get started, we're not gonna have anything to taste."

"Pushy, pushy," Sam joked. "First you want me to do a slug impression on the couch now it's 'get those potatoes peeled.'"

"Yeah, well, you convinced me you're fit for duty." He paused before amending. "Light duty."

"Aye aye, Captain," Sam responded with a jaunty salute then sat down to start peeling the potatoes.

"Goofball," Al said with a smile as he turned back to his own work. It felt good for things to get back to normal.

"Screwball," Sam threw back without looking up from the potato he'd started to peel.

Working between waves of talking and companionable silence, the two men created their Christmas dinner. When all was prepared, they had enjoyed the meal even setting a bit of the Cornish hen in Comet's bowl close to the table. The food was enjoyed but both would have agreed, if anyone had asked, that it was the company that made the meal as Sam had suggested earlier.

Once they'd cleaned up after dinner, Sam brought out the Yahtzee game that was stored in the coat closet. For the next several hours, they contented themselves with playing the game and, occasionally, playing with Comet and the laser pointer.

Since they'd eaten dinner late, they decided that a light supper of the rest of the chicken soup would be good. After supper, they watched a bit of television. With the cat curled up on the sofa beside Sam and Al sitting in his armchair, the evening felt homey and peaceful. Once the news was finished, it was time to turn in. Al went into the kitchen to make sure everything was in order before checking on Sam. Seeing that he was settled in, he said his good night. He was almost to the door when Sam called his name which caused him to turn to see what more the younger man might need. "Yeah?" He could see his friend's face with the light from the hallway. There was something important the younger man wanted to say.

"I've been thinking about it. Maybe this hang-up I have about taking government money is something I need to reconsider. It couldn't hurt to look at what they might offer, right?"

Al grinned lightly. "No, it couldn't hurt. I think you might be surprised."

"Maybe. Well, good night, Al," the younger man said as he snuggled under the covers further.

"Good night, Sam." He closed the door before climbing the stairs to his own room. As Al crawled under the covers he couldn't help to think that even though life had taken a meandering course through calm and occasionally turbulent waters, they had returned to their quiet harbor.

Tomorrow, he'd see what he could do to set the ball in motion getting Sam government funding for his project...after he'd made sure his friend had taken care of his health with the doctor. In the meantime, he couldn't help but thank whoever might be out there that, now, all things felt right as he drifted off to sleep.

The end


End file.
